Temporal Sequence
by Chaos-and-Serenity
Summary: [COMPLETE] Memories are snippets in time. If evaluated piece by piece they can reveal the foundation of a personality. But these snapshots of things past are meaningless unless properly sequenced. It’s really all about the timing…
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any other of Takahashi-sama's original characters. I am simply here to twist and torture them for my own sadistic delight! _Can hear Inuyasha scoffing…_

This is a response to a challenge posted by Trouble in Shangri-La.

_'Thoughts.'_

This symbol: _xxx _ memories.

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 1:**

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**_For a specific series of actions between two variables to occur, there must be a logical connection. But this connection must be sparked in a specific order of events. Causation is impossible without proper temporal sequence…_**

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"I have outlined the four steps of causation," the gray-headed man began, "and it will be on your exam next week."

_'Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…'_

"Remember that these four steps are necessary, but not sufficient, to attribute causation."

_'Thirty-nine, forty…'_

"It is vital that these four steps be in the _correct _order…"

_'Forty-four, forty-five…'_

"First there must be a logical theoretical connection, secondly, X and Y must correlate…"

_'Forty-nine, fifty…'_

"Thirdly, X must precede Y. Temporal sequence is vital, because if this third step does not hold true, then the correlation will be false and the forth step will be overlooked, which is the elimination of spurious relationships."

_'Fifty-nine, sixty… '_

**Rrrrriiiinnng!**

Kagome practically leapt out of her seat at the shrilling sound of the bell. Tenkada-sensei was a brilliant man, but he was terribly boring. So she had spent the last minute of class zoning out while counting away the ticking seconds. Research Methods was a relatively easy class and she didn't really need to come to the review today. In her mind she had already aced the test, though she wouldn't take it for another week. But thinking back to all those skipped classes and taxing all-nighters that resulted in less than impressive grades, she decided that perfect attendance was in order.

She stepped out of the musty building and closed her eyes as the warm sun embraced her. A gentle breeze flowed past and she hoped it would be this lovely in the Sengoku Jidai. With that thought, she took off in a light sprint toward her car. Inuyasha was going to be furious with her tardiness when she crossed into the era that had become her second home.

Things were looking up in the modern world though. She had managed to pass high school with mediocre grades, meaning a respectable university was not within her grasp. So being the optimist she was she did the next best thing—she enrolled in a local community college. It was probably better that way since she could live at home and borrow her mother's car. Running a historical shrine did not result in a substantial cash flow after all.

But she was lonely in this era. Hunting non-stop for jewel shards had alienated her from her school friends. Being as studious as they were, they had all gone off to prestigious schools and never looked back. Only Ayumi had said goodbye.

She opened the door to her mother's early nineties sedan and plopped in with a thud, slamming the door beside her. She stared ahead at nothing at all and thought about her future. And she saw nothing…

Her mother was so kind, so understanding, and a remarkably good liar. She knew she was a disappointment, but her mother had pretended to be proud. Proud of a sub-par daughter that had thrown all opportunities to the wind so she could spend every free moment with a hanyou that lived five hundred years in the past. Yes, her mother was indeed an excellent liar, for the woman had never once let her tongue slip the horrible truth. Sometimes she wished her mother would be candid with her and just spill it.

She started the car and carefully found her way to the street that would lead her home. But was it really home? Sometimes she felt like a specter floating between eras, awaiting the finish line of eternity. An apparition hardly noticed by her own family and hardly appreciated by her friends of centuries past.

She supposed her family did have a right to overlook her presence; after all she wasn't often in their company. She was a time traveler and they had learned to accept that fact long ago. Her grandfather had ignited the family's reluctant approval by spouting the single word 'fate.' Was it her fate to jump through time? Was it her destiny to meet a hanyou? Did fate preordain her befriending a kitsune, houshi, and taijiya for the purpose of eradicating evil? Was she supposed to fall in love with Inuyasha?

_Inuyasha…_ Was she still _in love_ with the unpredictable half-demon? Well, he wasn't completely unpredictable. He was always irritated when she returned home and he always devoured ramen with haste. He always bickered with her and protected her, though his concern for her safety was a bit overbearing. He was always…Inuyasha.

A year ago all she ever wanted was for the brash hanyou to kiss her, claim her; declare his love for her for the whole world to hear. But fate had a strange way of doing things. It had been four years since she first laid eyes on the ruggedly handsome boy with little doggy ears, slumbering peacefully against a tree; an arrow buried within the red fabric covering his shoulder. He looked so serene, but appearances were deceiving. From the moment he opened those impossibly beautiful eyes, all he saw was Kikyou…

Was that why he was so unwavering in his loyalty and protection of her? Was it because she carried the soul of Kikyou within her body? She had hoped and longed for the day when his eyes would look at her with no shadows of the past lingering within them—shadows that spoke volumes of his fixation of yore—of years when Kikyou still walked among the living. It was nearly a year ago that that optimism that marked her persona had faded into the abyss of her psyche, the part that harnessed memories forgotten.

Some people might have said that it was a good thing that she was trying to move on.

But it had hurt—_continued_ to hurt. She crumpled that unrequited love like a piece of paper to be thrown away, but she hadn't thrown it away; she was too weak to permanently discard it. So she took that wrinkled and marred paper and confined it deep within to be reopened and reexamined on a moment's whim. She wished she could simply burn it into oblivion, never to be touched or felt again. But that was asking a lot, and she really wasn't sure if that was possible in the first place.

She parked the old sedan and slowly exited the small car, stalling for a moment as the breeze shifted her hair, tickling her skin. She had to go back to the Feudal Era today, but she wished she could sit by the old god tree and let the warm air engulf her and sooth her mind into mere nothingness. But not today, for today she had to go back to the past and back to Inuyasha.

"Mama, I'm home!" she yelled as she slipped through the door. This house was a special place. The place where she slowly became a woman, where a supporting woman had nurtured her, a kind brother had idolized her, and an old man had cultivated her creativity with old legends and useless magic. With that thought she realized that maybe she _was_ destined to travel into the past, since even her own family seemed surrounded by its invisible mist.

"Kagome?" her mother said softly, a large bowl and spoon in her hands. "How was class?"

"Normal, I guess," she said with a shrug. She dropped her backpack to the floor and immediately knelt down to remove her books. Her mother quickly noticed the action and its underlying meaning as a slight frown crossed her face.

"You're going back today?" her mother asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," she replied, trying her best to ignore the tone of her mother's voice. "I'm leaving after dinner."

"Oh, well at least you're staying for a bit," her mother said cheerily.

Kagome inwardly sighed as her mother sauntered back into the kitchen. Throughout the years of journeying between eras she had changed. She had become stronger, more patient, more willed, and much, much quicker, in more ways than one. Intuition was said to be an innate trait of a miko, but she felt that hers was gained through experience. She was still a bit ignorant and maybe a little too innocent at times, but she had slowly learned to read people, at least to a certain extent. She was especially sensitive to the things they were really saying under all those words and false pretenses. And she knew one thing at that moment and it was that her mother had not said what she really wanted to say.

_"I wish you would stop living in the past, Kagome."_

She had felt this from her mother on too many occasions. Her mother understood the importance of her quest, but she also knew that danger awaited her daughter on the other side of the well. Blood thirsty demons aside, her mother knew she was becoming attached and she knew all too well that Kagome had fallen in love with a man half a millennium out of her reach. It was an impossible situation. Maybe her mother was a miko after all and just didn't know it, because her intuition was off the charts.

After dinner Kagome helped her mother with the dishes. Supper was unusually quiet and the silence among the normally elated Higurashi household was becoming unbearable. Her mother had barely spoken a word to her since she arrived home from school.

"How many more shards are left, dear?" The silence had finally been broken, but much to Kagome's chagrin.

"I don't know, mama," she replied truthfully, knowing her mother would have liked a different answer—something like 'only three, or two' or even better, 'only one left, mama!'

"Well," her mother began uneasily, "I hope you find the rest soon." She thought she could almost hear the subtle truth behind those words…

_"I wish that well had never pulled you in. Then you never would've broken that jewel and fallen in love with that boy. Then none of this would have ever happened."_

"Yeah, me too," she said softly. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered a thought to the contrary, but she ignored it as she remembered how it felt to love a man who never gave any indication of reciprocity.

Dusk was settling as she walked to the well house. The air was cooling from its previous warmth, but she didn't mind. It almost seemed to coincide with her state of being—not nearly as warm as it used to be, but slowly freezing nonetheless. She shook her head as though that action alone would remove all those disconcerting thoughts; she wanted a clear head when she crossed time's barrier.

She entered the dark little shed and apprehensively approached the well. She knelt down and peered over its rim as though the gesture would permit her to see if anyone was waiting for her by the well, five hundred years in the past. She hoped that Inuyasha wouldn't be there so that she would have more time to relieve her mind of its debris. Maybe it would be Shippou. The little kitsune had a magnificent ability to lift her spirits. But it really shouldn't matter, because she'd still have to see Inuyasha.

_'Why did it have to be my stupid fate intertwined with the past, huh? The gods must despise me and relish in my torment!'_

She had been doing this for almost a year now and so she knew she could do it again. She could look him in the face and pretend nothing had changed. She could pretend his mere presence did not affect her. She had become quite proficient at putting on facades for whatever the occasion required—it made things easier to handle. She was the one who brought that wretched jewel back into their era and broke it into hundreds of pieces scattered throughout Japan. It was her duty to piece it back together so that no more evil beings could abuse it and wreak havoc. The current state of her own time was dependent on her to fix her mistake of four years past.

Her shoulders suddenly felt heavy as though the lives of all people, past and present, were counting on her to save the world. The burden was on her, as always, to ensure the happiness of others. She was never a selfish person, but the more she thought about it the more angry she became. Why was it that no one seemed to care about her happiness? Didn't she deserve to be content as well? Maybe it was high time she started thinking about herself a little more. Well, she kind of already did that when she made that bargain with Inuyasha. It really wasn't a bargain though, but it was necessary nonetheless.

_'Get a grip, girl!'_

She really wasn't being fair. There were plenty of people who cared about her happiness. She inhaled sharply, closed her eyes, and plunged into the dark abyss of the well, knowing she would not hit the bottom until clear skies were overhead. She felt the strong swirl of magic surround her and enclose her body in its mystical arms as though it was carrying its child. Then, after a few moments, the magic that seemed to be more a part of herself than a foreign entity set her down gently onto her feet. She was on hard ground again and when she snapped her head upward she saw the light orange hue of the sky, drifting off to slumber as the sun set, awaiting the arrival of the moon.

She started climbing the vines attached to the wall of the old well that were no longer present in her era. When her head sprouted over the rim she was met face to face with the red-clad hanyou that always invaded her thoughts like an incurable plague. Sometimes she wondered if he would be the death of her.

"Took ya long enough," he said with a huff.

"School, Inuyasha," she spat. "Or did you forget?"

He stood to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest indignantly. "No, but I still think it's stupid."

"Well, in my time it's a necessity!" she exclaimed with rising anger.

"You should stay here so we can find the shards quicker!" he said, challenging her anger.

"We made a deal, Inuyasha!" she stated with finality, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"It wasn't a deal. It was a COMMAND!"

Every time, every _single_ time she crossed into this era he did this. He was very unhappy that day many months ago when she announced that she was going to spend more time in her own era. She had a life there and it had been going downhill since she was spending entirely too much time trekking across ancient Japan, piecing together a jewel that had fallen into the forgotten realm of legend. But she did what she felt she had to and spent more time studying so that she wouldn't remain a lost cause. She worked hard to pull her grades up in high school, though the last minute effort produced less than average grades, but at least she had graduated. Then she was accepted into a small two-year institution and she was not going to repeat the past. She needed nearly perfect grades to get into a decent university and she wasn't about to let Inuyasha ruin that for her.

"Whatever, Inuyasha," she stated with exasperation. "I don't feel like arguing right now." She pulled herself completely out of the well and followed his retreating form back to Kaede's village.

Inuyasha didn't even help her out of the well anymore and he seemed unfazed by their lack of bickering, though they still fought like siblings at times, but not like they once had. He was becoming more distant and it unnerved her a bit. He was not adapting well to her new scheduled life like the others had. They understood she had another life in a world they could only imagine, but never see. Inuyasha was simply furious that their shard hunting would be delayed by her new insistence that she had to focus on her education. He was being more selfish than ever these past months, something of which even she had trouble believing, though he had always been too egocentric. There were those too-few memories of him being caring and understanding toward her, but he had never adopted those traits as being more central to his personality. Sometimes she wondered how she could have ever fallen for such man. She silently giggled, recalling a time long ago when she had thought she wanted a man completely unlike Inuyasha, but she eventually saw the other sides of him.

Night came upon them quickly and Kagome was overwhelmed by the lavish greetings from her friends. She enjoyed their happy hellos and warm embraces, but it was not enough to fill the void that had begun overtaking her soul. She hated these feelings of emptiness and she hated the self-pitying it incited even more, but she didn't show it. She put her 'overjoyed' façade in place and gabbed with them about what everyone had been doing all week. Shippou showered her with affection and proudly showed off his collection of drawings that he had accumulated since her departure. He was becoming quite the artist and she felt pride swell within her chest. A genuine smile crept upon her lips and she hugged the little boy with fervor. He eagerly accepted her loving attention, eliciting a contended sigh from her.

Her friends fell into an easy slumber in Kaede's hut, all except she and Inuyasha. Inuyasha had disappeared without a word, but that had become the norm a few months back. At first she was curious as to where he was going, afraid he might be sneaking off with Kikyou, but now she couldn't muster the energy to care. If Inuyasha wanted to go to hell with Kikyou then that was fine with her, because she had come to terms with the fact that Kikyou would always be his first and only choice.

She decided a nice leisurely stroll was in order and so she quietly left the hut and headed into the dark woods. She knew it wasn't the greatest of ideas, but she came prepared. She brought a bow and a quiver full of arrows as well as a small dagger strapped to her side that Miroku had given her. Over the years she had learned to fight a little, but definitely not sufficiently enough to adequately defend herself. She had also gained a keen sense of awareness through many practiced sessions of meditation with Kaede. Miroku continued in Kaede's absence when they were traveling. She could sense jyaki with ease and she could even tell if they meant her harm or not. But she couldn't sense _youkai_ unless they were emitting their youki, and _that_ was a problem. She doubted that she'd ever get this miko thing down pat enough for it to become second nature.

She treaded along through the dense woods, her mind preoccupied with a certain hanyou again, not realizing how far from the village she had gone. Then she sensed it—a faint youki was near. It was so faint she wondered if she had even sensed it all.

She pulled her bow from her back and followed the trace youki out of curiosity, feeling confident that she could handle a weak youaki on her own. She parted the foliage and stepped into a small clearing, immediately noticing the blood blanketing the ground. The youki was nearly undetectable because it was nothing more than a remnant of a previous battle. She then caught sight of a body and recognition clicked almost immediately. His furry pelt looked so much smaller drenched in blood and his two swords were scattered several feet away. It would seem that whoever attacked him had tried to steal his swords, but didn't succeed. Toukijin was too evilly powerful to control and Tensaiga was probably deemed worthless, though she thought it was the most valuable sword on the face of the planet. Too bad _he_ possessed it.

She approached his prone form, indecision weighing her down. She figured people would have told her to turn around and walk back to camp. They would have said if he was to be healed, then lives would be lost. They would have said that such a cruel demon did not deserve help, especially from a human he deemed inferior; a race he supposedly hated. A fleeting image of a little girl waded past her mind's eye and she focused on the fragmented memory.

There was a little girl with dark hair pulled sloppily into a ponytail at the side of her head. She wore a checkered kimono tied by a green obi and she was riding on the back of a two-headed dragon, Tetsusaiga clutched in one hand as the other reached for something. She cried for someone and a little green hand grasped her free one, but she was unable to hold onto him. Then Tetsusaiga plummeted from the sky as though the girl did not think it worth her attention.

She now remembered. Sesshoumaru had taken in an orphaned little girl—a _human_ girl no less. Did she view him as her father? It was admirable and shocking, but should one such as he be raising an impressionable young girl? Would he teach her to hate her own kind as he did?

She looked down at him and her breath caught. His face was so bloody he was almost unrecognizable. His hair was a mess and stained red, as was his usually pristine clothing. So much of him was drenched in blood that she couldn't even begin to decipher where his wounds began and ended. Should she do something? Should she help him? Surely a taiyoukai had many enemies and he would probably be finished off in this state.

Another much clearer memory came to mind that made her want to leave him as he was and take his chances with the wilds. She recalled the time he had doused her in poison right after she pulled Tetsusaiga from the stone in which it was lodged. He was infuriated with her interference and stood before her within the blink of an eye, prepared to destroy her. He had stated his intent right in front of her and she had never been more terrified in her entire life. She had witnessed the deathly power of youkai and had seen Inuyasha kill several offending demons during their short travels, but none even compared to his own _full-youkai _brother. She doubted even Inuyasha's superior strength could handle Sesshoumaru. But fortunately Tetsusaiga had saved her from an untimely death. Surely the gods must want her to complete her quest.

Another thought crept into the forefront of her mind. She recalled the time Sesshoumaru had replaced his left arm with a human one, which enabled him to wield the Tetsusaiga against Inuyasha. The taiyoukai had known how to unleash its awesome power and later, when the brothers fought yet again, he had chastised Inuyasha for letting its power go to waste. She assumed then that Sesshoumaru knew all about Tetsusaiga. Did he know it would protect her? _'Hell no…'_

Kagome was never the type to let harm come to anyone, no matter the extent of their transgressions. She hated seeing people hurt or killed, and her sympathetic side was telling her to nurse Sesshoumaru back to health. It seemed wrong to let him die from his injuries, though that most likely wouldn't happen, but the thought of him being murdered while defenseless was unsettling. She had never seen the proud taiyoukai helpless, so it was hard to imagine him being killed while unconscious, but the reality of the situation was that if she left him as he was then he would probably end up dead. Inuyasha would be angry if she helped his brother, but a lot of things made Inuyasha angry. And a tiny part of her had always hoped that one day the two would make amends and act like _real_ siblings. That seemed implausible, but her damned psyche pushed another memory to the front of her mind, as though to remind her that things were not always as they seemed. It felt like it had happened a lifetime ago…

_xxx_

Inuyasha had once again turned full-youkai out of necessity, but this time things took a turn for the worst. She ran to him, blinding herself to his rampage, Tetsusaiga gripped within whitened knuckles. But an unexpected visitor appeared on the scene, giving her pause.

"Sesshoumaru!" she gasped.

"What is _he_ doing here?" she heard Miroku say from behind her. A few moments later the demon in question finally found words.

"You are nothing more than a murderous demon," he said dangerously, as though he was displeased. Kagome found this somewhat shocking since Sesshoumaru didn't seem to be bothered by bloodshed, _especially_ human bloodshed.

"Come after me, Inuyasha," he said calmly. "I wish to test your strength transformed as such."

Inuyasha snarled in response and wasted no time running toward his brother. Sesshoumaru just stood there, his hand not even resting on the hilt of his sword. Inuyasha leapt into the air and just as he was about to strike his new opponent, Sesshoumaru unsheathed Toukijin. Inuyasha seemed suspended midair as the sword's power plunged blue daggers into his flesh, but Inuyasha kept going until he fought it off and slapped the sword away.

The fighting continued in a blur as Kagome watched with bated breath. Sesshoumaru moved with liquid accuracy, easily dodging each attack thrown sloppily his way by the wildly demonic Inuyasha. He knocked Inuyasha back several feet with his katana; Inuyasha skidded to a halt, more blood carelessly finding the ground in the futile battle. He went after Sesshoumaru again and the taiyoukai pushed him forward with his sword, causing another horrific spray of blood to spew from Inuyasha, as he did a graceful back flip and landed a good distance away.

"And now little brother, I understand," he said coolly. "You are not a full-fledged demon. All you are is a half-breed," he spat with distaste. That infuriated Inuyasha further, if that were even possible, and he lunged at Sesshoumaru again, the latter preparing his sword by angling it to the side and slightly toward himself.

"Know your place in the world," he called to the growling Inuyasha. "A half-breed should act like one. On your knees!" He thrust Toukijin outward, but still the sideways blade faced himself more than Inuyasha, which puzzled her.

"PLEASE, STOP!" she screamed, but to no avail.

Inuyasha hit the surge of demonic energy that flowed from Toukijin like a river rapid and his limp body flew through the air and hit the ground with a loud thud. She ran to him and threw her body over his, as though she could protect him from the inevitable. But the inevitable never came…

"He has finally been brought down." His voice was too close. She looked over her shoulder with angry eyes, quickly noticing that Sesshoumaru was indeed too close for comfort.

"Don't come any nearer!" she cried desperately. She was scared—scared for Inuyasha's life. To her surprise, Sesshoumaru stopped and just stood there staring at her with a blank expression.

"If you wish him to stop, use Tetsusaiga to reverse the transformation. Otherwise he will continue to fight when he awakens."

_'I thought he wanted to kill Inuyasha…?'_

Then Miroku and Sango appeared, blocking her view of Sesshoumaru Even though he must have heard them running his way, his eyes never left hers until the monk stepped in between them.

"You could have finished him off earlier if you wanted to," Miroku began with an icy tinge to his voice. "Instead you merely held him off with your sword. Why did you stop at that?" Miroku asked in disbelief. "We all know you despise Inuyasha. I can't _believe_ you've developed feelings for your brother!" Kagome cringed, thinking of all the possible fatal outcomes for Miroku's tone toward Sesshoumaru.

But to her immense surprise, Miroku was merely answered, "I will slay him…eventually. Why kill him now when he does not know himself? There would be no point." Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the forest on the other side of the clearing.

_xxx_

He had spared their lives when he could have easily taken them. Maybe he wasn't the heartless killer she had assumed him to be. She felt awful now that she thought about it. That had happened so long ago and yet she had never pondered the probable meanings it held concerning his character.

It was final; her mind now determined to go through with a plan of action. Inuyasha be damned; she was going to help Sesshoumaru.

**x x x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This is not an action packed, highly suspenseful or fast paced romantic story. If those are the things you are looking for, then you are reading the wrong story. There is going to be a lot of psychological evaluation, but I try to make it iinteresting.

Temporal Sequence

**Chapter 2:**

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Science can help us understand how choices are made. Decisions and actions are based upon more than just personal values…

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It was sunny that day as she held onto her mother's hand, skipping as best she could while still keeping pace. She loved the sun; it was always shining with warmth and defeating darkness. She began humming softly as she and her mother walked back to the shrine.

"Oh no," her mother said strangely

Her mother stopped suddenly and the little girl she once was followed her mother's gaze. There was a red and brown heap ahead at the side of the road. She didn't know what it was, but she knew it didn't belong there.

"What's wrong, mama?"

Her mother sighed and pulled her along gently, stopping when they reached the large lump, half of which covered the sidewalk and the rest sprawled out on the road. It was a relatively large and oddly furry heap.

"It's a dog, Kagome."

That didn't make any sense. "It's a doggy?" she whispered in disbelief. "Then why does it look like that, mama? Shouldn't it be playing?" She inspected the dormant dog and immediately found herself frightened. She recognized the coal-colored beads as eyes, but those eyes didn't look right. They were fully open and staring at nothing at all; the blackened orbs clouded and unfocused, making the dog seem more like a stuffed toy than an actual animal.

"Sweetheart, this dog will never play again." She wondered why her mother sounded so sad.

"Why not, mama?"

"The poor thing is dead," she replied. "Someone hit it with a car."

She stared up at her mother with wide eyes as understanding began seeping into her mind. "Is that why mama says not to play in the street?"

"Yes dear," her mother said with a faint smile. "That way a car won't hurt you."

"Then we should take him to the doctor so he gets better."

"Honey, do you understand what I meant when I said that it's dead?" Kagome shook her head, knowing she hadn't really given the word much thought. Her mother kneeled down and took her hand, placing the tiny digits over her chest. "Do you feel that?" Her mother paused until Kagome nodded affirmatively and then took Kagome's hand and placed it on her own chest. "And that?"

"Uh-huh," she replied cheerily, happy that her mother was explaining things to her.

"That's a heartbeat, Kagome," she began. "You have one and I have one. Daddy has one and so does grandpa. It means you're alive."

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes when comprehension struck true. "So, the doggy doesn't have one? He doesn't have a heart beat?"

Her mother nodded as she smoothed a thick strand of hair behind her ear. "You see, every living thing is born with a heart and it beats while you live. When it stops, you're dead."

"Can't it be started again?" she asked hopefully.

Her mother looked thoughtful for a moment as she contemplated how to word her thoughts. "Sometimes it can, but it must be done within a few minutes after it stops."

"Oh." She felt the hot liquid trace her cheek, and then the other one—shed tears serving as a child's initiation into the hardest of human realities.

"You'll understand better when you're older," she said tenderly as she stroked Kagome's hair.

"So, he's not coming back?"

"No dear. He's in a better place now."

"Where's that?" she asked with another surge of hope.

"You remember some of grandpa's teachings, don't you?" She nodded enthusiastically, hope still shining bright. "This dog will either go to Nirvana, which is the happiest place you can go, or he'll be reincarnated as another living thing once again."

"So, he's not _really_ dead?" she asked hesitantly.

"In essence yes, because if this dog comes back, it'll be in many years and he won't be the same. He won't even remember being a dog. You see the soul never dies. It keeps being reincarnated until it finds true peace. Then it will rest in Nirvana forever."

"So, if a soul comes back," she began uncertainly, "then it won't be the same?" Her mother smiled and nodded, making Kagome swell with pride.

"So don't be sad. It's always sad when something dies, but always remember to move on and accept it. Remember that their soul will never die."

"Okay, mama," she said as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Now, let's go get papa so he can carry the dog," her mother said passively as she pulled Kagome along once more.

"But why, mama?"

"So we can bury him and see him off to the next stop."

"Huh? But he wasn't _our_ dog."

"Kagome, when someone, or an animal in this case, is hurt you should always help them—even if you don't know them or can't stand them. Though we can't heal this dog, we can at least give him a proper burial."

"To see him off?"

"Yes dear. Think of it as the last act of kindness he receives before he moves on to the next stage of life. And what have I always told you about kindness?"

"Always be kind so you get good karma!" she exclaimed, happy she remembered her mother's words. Her mother chuckled quietly making Kagome question her own interpretation.

"The gods want you to be kind. And it feels good to share your kindness with others. For every time you're kind it becomes more a part of who you are. And you will be rewarded with good karma and that's good for your next stage of life," her mother said warmly. "Remember, sweetie, that death is merely a stage in the ongoing process of life."

"Umm…" Kagome was a little confused, but she was too embarrassed to admit it.

"Don't worry, honey. I'm just laying the foundation. You'll understand perfectly when you're older," her mother said as though reading her thoughts.

"That's what everybody says!" she replied with frustration. She wanted to understand now!

"That's how it always is," her mother said with a giggle. Kagome shrugged in response, not wanting to talk about her lack of knowledge right the moment.

"Well," she began, "I hope that doggy has good karma."

She wiped the gathering tears from her eyes as she recalled her first experience of death. She was six years old at the time and a year later she would have a baby brother and a dead father. At least her mother had been honest about the dead dog or else she would have been thoroughly confused when she was told her father was never coming back. She was sad when she realized the dog was no longer alive, but it swiftly passed since she knew life was a never-ending process, not to mention that it wasn't _her_ dog that had passed. But it was _her_ father that had died, and that simple possessive changed everything.

She placed a clammy hand on the chest in front of her that was slowly rising and falling with each shallow breath. He had a heartbeat, albeit a weak one, but that meant he was alive. When she had first inspected and cleansed his wounds she didn't think he'd make it. But now that his heartbeat and breathing had stabilized she was sure his youkai blood would do its magic. Cleaning and bandaging him had been quite a task indeed, not to mention the headache she endured while getting off the hook with Inuyasha.

After she had decided to help Sesshoumaru she immediately ran back to Kaede's village. Right as she neared the curtain sewn from bamboo that served as a door, a red-clad figure jumped from the roof, effectively blocking her path.

"Inu…yasha," she said brokenly, trying to regain her breath from her previous exercise and recently bestowed shock.

"Where have you been?" he asked accusingly. She was momentarily glad she didn't touch Sesshoumaru, for surely Inuyasha would have smelt his blood.

But she had other things to worry about since now was the time to initiate her ploy. She had actually concocted a pretty good lie during her sprint, making her want to pat herself on the back in appreciation of her own cleverness. "I took a walk," she began, trying to look flustered. "I needed to clear my head, but…but—"

"_But_?" he demanded.

"I have this terrible feeling and it won't go away!" _'This is where the miko's intuition comes in handy,'_ she mused. Inuyasha's scowl shifted to a look a concern. _'Score one for me!'_ She had desperately hoped that he would buy it.

"What do you mean?" he asked with worry written plainly on his face. "Do you think it has to do with Naraku?" Even his voice was colored with concern, making her heart briefly cringe with guilt.

'Oh great, he has to take it there…'

She shook her head in negation. "No, I keep thinking about my family," she said in a voice of feigned worry, quite contrary to Inuyasha's authentic concern. "I feel like I'm missing something…like something isn't right."

He frowned at her and she swore at that moment that she could feel his anger rising like a sudden gust of wind. "You're trying to get out of shard hunting, aren't you?"

This was taking a turn for the worst. "Inuyasha," she said sweetly, placing a hand on his forearm. "I know my schooling has slowed down our hunt—"

"Damn right it has!" he yelled as he jerked his arm away. "We barely get anywhere before you have to go back!"

"I-I," she stuttered. He was making this even more difficult, and as if things couldn't get any worse, her words had decided to take a vacation. During her mind's mock sessions of this meeting things had definitely gone smoother. Then as if on cue, Miroku stepped from the hut.

"Are you all right, Kagome-sama?" he asked.

"Stay out of this, _monk_!" Inuyasha yelled. Miroku's gaze shifted between them as he tried to understand why Inuyasha was so angry.

"Well, my friend," Miroku began, eyeing Inuyasha cautiously, "it seems that you two need a mediator since you cannot have a civilized conversation on your own." Kagome sighed in relief; Miroku was a godsend right about now.

Miroku led them across the village and sat under a tree bordering the forest. He insisted they go somewhere else to speak in case any yelling erupted—he didn't want to wake the others or any unsuspecting villagers either. When Kagome and Inuyasha both took a seat on the grass, he spoke again.

"So, what is this all about?"

"I—"

"She—"

Miroku sighed in exasperation. "One at a time please," he said calmly, not wishing to incite any more anger.

"She's copping out of our mission!" Inuyasha hollered while pointing an accusatory finger at her. Miroku eyed Kagome curiously, as though wondering the truthful extent of Inuyasha's words.

"Is this true Kagome-sama?" Miroku asked skeptically. Inuyasha had never been very persuasive she realized when Miroku's full attention fell on her to verify the hanyou's candor.

"Not entirely," she began. Inuyasha opened his mouth to retort, but Miroku swiftly raised a hand to silence him. Inuyasha's mouth snapped closed and a scowl marred his face.

She looked at Inuyasha with a bit of regret as feelings she wished to forget bombarded her in that moment. She hated herself for making him look like that and she hated him even more for affecting her. Why did things have to turn out like this?

"You see," she began, trying to recapture her insincere concern, "when everyone went to bed an ominous feeling overcame me. I couldn't sleep because of it and I took a walk, hoping it would ease my mind so I could rest." If anyone had a predisposition for 'ominous feelings' it was definitely the scandalous monk, and surely he would not refute her. Things were starting to look up again…

"She is so full of shit!" Inuyasha yelled, _again_.

"Inuyasha," Miroku began with a sigh, "please quit interrupting. Your accusatory outbursts are not helping in the least. Please continue, Kagome-sama."

Miroku looked at her with a slight frown as he awaited her to continue. She knew that look; it was his way of displaying concern. She could win him over; she just had to reinforce the acting a bit. So, she focused on her pain, her unrequited love—the hanyou that broke her heart with a mere gaze… Then the tears came.

"I think something bad is happening…in my time," she sobbed. "I feel like I left something important behind." More tears fell; this was going well…

Inuyasha scoffed at her remarks, but Miroku sent him a warning glare. "So you need to return to your own era again?" Miroku asked in understanding and she quickly nodded in affirmation. Miroku stroked his chin thoughtfully as he looked to the ground and after a minute or two of contemplation he spoke with finality. "You should go then. A miko's intuition should not be ignored."

"_What_?!" Inuyasha screamed.

"Thank you for understanding, Miroku-san." She looked at Inuyasha who had long since stood and was now pacing furiously, abusing the poor grass so badly that the blades were being uprooted from the ground. "Inuyasha?" she asked cautiously.

He glared at her as though he couldn't care less what she had to say. He was visibly fuming and she swore she could see the steam rising from his head. "I'll return in the morning and tell you if I was right or not. If I'm wrong, then we'll leave immediately to continue our quest. If I'm right—"

"Then our mission will be delayed for only the gods know how long!"

"I'm sorry, Inuyasha," she said while averting her eyes from his. She wondered if he could sense her subtle deceit and she felt all the more awful for lying to him, but she had already decided to help his wounded brother. _'Remember kindness and karma, Kagome,'_ she told herself as she watched Inuyasha from the corner of her eye.

"Whatever," he sighed, his anger seemingly fading. "I don't even care anymore. I'm getting used to you turning your back on your promise," he mumbled as he stormed off, _away_ from the village.

She was stunned. After all that she had gone through in order to make this quest possible, he had the nerve to say she was going back on her word. She was only delaying it, not leaving it behind. What gave him the right to say those things? Then it struck her with the ferocity of a tsunami and she wished for once that those waves would just go ahead and drown her so that her misery would die alongside her body. He was pissed off because he would have to wait even longer to complete the jewel, meaning he would have to wait even longer to become a full-fledged youkai. Was he angry because he had to _wait_ to get what he wanted?

She loved the man in Inuyasha, but she hated the child that he sometimes became. Yes, she broke the jewel, and yes, she brought here in the first place. She didn't have to keep crossing time in order to fix her mistake; she could have left and never returned. She wasn't gaining anything material from this journey. She had gained friends, strength and cherished memories, but it wasn't like she was going to get a wish! It hurt when he talked like that—like she didn't give a damn about him—and it hurt even more when he equated their friendship with material gains.

Did he even care about her happiness? Were _all_ his thoughts fixated on restoring that damned jewel so he could make a damned wish? That stupid jewel had consumed the entirety of Inuyasha and she was quickly growing tired of it—of him. He was angry because she had chosen her own life over his, but wasn't that to be expected? Why couldn't he understand that she had to stop spending so much time with him? Why couldn't he understand that it hurt when he looked at her? Didn't he know that one day she would no longer travel through the well and she needed something for herself on the other side? How could she live for someone who couldn't love her in return? He was so self-centered that he was upset because _he_ was no longer the center of her attention. Inuyasha needed a reality check and he needed it badly. He had just strengthened her resolve to heal his brother without even knowing it.

'_Kindness, Kagome,' _she reminded herself, suddenly realizing that she was being too hard on Inuyasha.

"Kagome?" Miroku asked gently, pulling her from the thicket of her muddied thoughts.

"Oh, sorry. I hope he cools down," she said as an afterthought.

"He will, eventually," Miroku said as he looked off into the distance where Inuyasha had disappeared. "Kagome-sama, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she replied a bit apprehensively.

"Do you still love him?"

He had to ask _that_. That particular question that knotted her chest so tightly she thought her heart was internally bleeding; the words that made her stomach burn as though she had been poisoned. And it was such a simple question, though the answer could never possibly be so rudimentary.

"I-I don't know," she replied honestly.

"It is difficult to love someone so angry," he stated in that mage-like voice of his.

"Yeah," she replied with a reducing laugh. "Miroku, do you think," she stumbled, "do you think that he has ever…seen _me_. You know, when he looks at me?"

Miroku inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. "Sometimes, Kagome-sama," he said softly as he opened his eyes to look at her again. "But…not enough."

She felt like crying. His words were so strikingly true. She supposed she asked him to convince herself that she wasn't being delusional—to make sure that she was doing the right thing by trying to shut _him_ out of her heart. But she knew _he_ would always remain there, even if it were only a small fraction of space his memory inhabited.

"You should go now," Miroku stated as he stood, offering her his hand.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"We'll see you in the morning?"

She nodded and walked toward the hut to gather her things, Miroku flanking her side. They did not speak, but to her surprise, Miroku embraced her before she turned to leave for the well, his hands never leaving her shoulder blades.

"Remember, Kagome," he whispered, "even if he does not love how you wish him to, he still loves you nonetheless. As do we all."

She cried; she couldn't help it. Miroku was so wise, so caring, so understanding, so much like…her mother. She loved the monk with a passion, for he was her stability, her guide—he was her mother's replacement in this era.

She had to make three sneaky trips through the well to gather all the supplies she needed. She swiped her brother's tent, fully loaded with another sleeping bag, as well as more food and lots of medical supplies. She grabbed her mother's sewing kit in case, gods forbid, she had to stitch up Sesshoumaru. She was so tired by the time she reached her newest charge that she didn't think _she'd_ last through the night! But she needed to find her focus and quickly because his life signs were faint and diminishing. She briefly wondered how he'd feel when he awoke to learn a human had saved his life. She pushed the dangerous thought from her mind, finally finding energy within distraction.

After starting a small fire she found a narrow stream nearby and filled a large pot with water. She toyed with the idea of shampooing his hair, thinking it might serve as a peace offering should Sesshoumaru not take kindly to her. Her trivial thoughts, however, fled when she opened his kosode.

Something had burned him so badly that his clothes were scorched into his skin. She had to rip the silk from his body and pick the remaining bits of cloth out of his flesh with tweezers. It was a tedious and nauseating task and when she thought she had cleared all the threads, she vigorously scrubbed the wounds. Fortunately, for him, pain didn't register within an unconscious mind.

Almost every visible inch of skin had been slashed on his midsection and his face had been cut diagonally, extending from his forehead to his neck until it reached his collarbone. She wondered if it'd scar. The cuts on his chest and stomach were from both claws and blades and she noticed differences in the lacerations. Different weapons and claws had inflicted this damage, making her feel certain he'd been ambushed.

After an excruciating trial-and-error session of flip-over-Sesshoumaru, it became painfully obvious how he had fallen. There were welts covering the entirety of his back. The sores were red and swollen with a pus-looking substance oozing from them like a noxious toxin. She had seen this before—Naraku's saimyoushou.

The enemy of your enemy was your friend, right? Well, that was how she chose to look at this situation. She felt oddly better after that little revelation, knowing she was saving a life that Naraku had sought to take. At least she didn't help him to later find out he had been slaughtering an entire village before he was attacked—that was definitely a relief. She knew Naraku's saimyoushou were venomous creatures and she wondered if Sesshoumaru had been poisoned. It seemed possible that the viscous substance leaking from the wounds was his body's way of expelling the miasma. She distantly remembered Sesshoumaru dismissing the notion of death-by-poison, but she shook the thought in favor of her mother-instilled precautionary measures. It was a good thing she was prepared for these sorts of things, considering Miroku's previous bouts with the hellish insects.

She angled him to the side, letting his weight fall onto her lap. As she poured the anti-venom down his throat she began to ponder the irony of the situation. Of course, the most hilarious aspect of this definitely not-so-funny dilemma was the human-hating, all-powerful Sesshoumaru relying on a human girl to save his life. Secondly, the arrogant, 'I'm invincible' youkai needed a reality check to inform him that although he may live for an indefinite length of time, 'indefinite' was a key word—meaning he _could_ get killed. It was also horribly ironic that the same bugs Naraku had provided him and those same bugs that he had first released against Inuyasha, Miroku, and herself had lived to later cause him problems. Maybe it wasn't funny per se, but she had the right to find some humor in the situation. He did deserve a good mocking session to knock him down a few notches on his self-loving pedestal.

After patching him up as best she could, she evaluated her work. His face had been the most difficult to bandage because of the length and oddity of the slice, but she didn't fuss over that detail for long. She worried over his leg for a while, thinking the limb might be broken, but too ignorant to do anything about it. The whole ordeal had been tiring and terribly awkward, but it appeared he wasn't going to be offering her any help, so she made due with what she had. His youkai blood would have to take care of the rest anyhow.

Restless, her thoughts wandered to death, compliments of a certain helpless dog demon. Sesshoumaru had reminded her of all those years ago when she and her mother had passed a dead dog on the sidewalk. Out of some strange fear, or impulse charged by an old memory, she checked Sesshoumaru's vital signs. She exhaled in relief when she found them to be stronger and steadier than before. It seemed he would make it afterall.

'He has a heartbeat. That means he's alive.'

She wanted to move him onto the extra sleeping bag, but she couldn't muster the energy to accomplish that _heavy_ task, so instead she settled for placing a blanket over his body. It didn't even reach his ankles, but at least most of him was covered. She wanted to just lie down and sleep so badly, but the languidly rising sun had reminded her of her other duty, which was considerably less noble than taking care of Sesshoumaru. She had to go back to her friends and lie, but she had to; none of them would understand, least of all Inuyasha who would probably sniff out his incapacitated brother and slay him despite his unconsciousness. Unfortunately, she felt lying was necessary.

But why couldn't they understand? She could tell Inuyasha that she helped Sesshoumaru because of that day he ended the demonic rampage that had overtaken Inuyasha. She could tell Sango that she felt inclined to help Sesshoumaru because of that night when Kohaku was spared, even after he had tried to kill a little girl they didn't know.

'Yes, they would understand, but he wouldn't.'

She began thinking over various stories she could tell her friends to explain yet another prolonged absence, though she already knew that Inuyasha would probably not believe her. Damned youkai and their superior senses! Everything seemed to give off a scent, even deceit. But it didn't matter what Inuyasha thought, or _knew_ in this case, because her friends would side with her. She had never blatantly lied to her friends before. Her thoughts began wandering again; this time pondering the wisdom of her decision to help Sesshoumaru. She hated lying and only did it when necessary, but she had to question the extent of this necessity. When it came to misleading people she would weigh out her options and deceit would only be chosen if it provided a more noble outcome. Well, maybe not _all_ the time… She had kept pulling Hojou along just because she didn't want to hurt his feelings. But wouldn't it have been less painful for him if she'd been candid? No use thinking about that because Mr. Perfect was long gone.

But Sesshoumaru had shown them all mercy at some point in time and he had revealed a subtle kindness by accepting an orphaned girl as his ward. A little girl that would be devastated if her daddy never returned home—like _her_ daddy had forever left her when she was just seven years old. But that wasn't the only reason; her heart simply wouldn't allow a defenseless soul to die in such a horrible way.

"_And what have I always told you about kindness?"_

"Always be kind so you get good karma," she whispered breathlessly, only the breeze to bear witness.

A painful moan broke through her thoughts, causing her to turn sharply. Sesshoumaru was tossing about violently as she crawled to his side, albeit apprehensively, in order to make sure he was all right. She leaned over his face and cringed at the torturous expression creasing his features. He had to be rousing to feel such torment. Just as the thought crossed her mind, golden eyes slowly opened and fixated on hers in the most piercing stare-down. She gasped as fear flooded her veins, overtaking her blood with a rush of adrenaline. Maybe she hadn't thought this through enough. Maybe she _was_ a fool for helping him. He probably didn't even need her help if he was waking so soon.

"Who…are…you?"

**x x x **

**A/N: If you plan on berating me for my treatment of Inuyasha's character, please don't. I am not entirely out of line considering he can be a complete ass in the anime. However, this chapter was from Kagome's point of view and she did mention the fact that she could tell Inuyasha knew she was lying. So he has a right to be pissed at her. There are also some disgruntled feelings between the two that will be explored later- these feelings were mentioned and they are centered around Kagome's decision to spend more time in her era, but other factors exist as well. This is a story about reasoning- look at the title- and there are reasons for what everyone does- Inuyasha included./b**

**Now that the foundation has been laid the story can truly begin…**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Takahashi-sama must be filthy rich by now with all the profits that Inuyasha and co. has been raking in. Where's Robin Hood when ya need him?

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 3:**

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**_Every path of action will have consequences. The execution of a decision and its subsequent results will not be completely dependent upon the choice itself. External factors play a crucial role…_**

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**_xxx_  
**

She sat upon a hilltop and gazed longingly at the setting sun as the fireflies danced about, setting the tone of the atmosphere to the epitome of serenity. She wished she could be as carefree as the luminous insects that spent their evenings caressing flower petals while they toyed with one another, their presence only made known by their intermittent glow. She wished she could chose when to be seen…

"Kagome?"

She knew that voice all too well. The voice that haunted her dreams and thoughts, never giving her mind a moment's peace. At least he sounded concerned, but after what had just happened he should.

"Hey, Inuyasha."

"Are you feeling better?"

She and the others, excluding Shippou and Inuyasha, had recovered from poison exposure, compliments of Mukotsu of the Shichinitai. Her handy anti-venom coupled with Myouga's taste for blood had saved their lives, only leaving them all exhausted in their wake.

"Just a little tired," she said softly as she turned her attention back to the fireflies.

She felt Inuyasha sit next to her and she saw him gazing ahead blankly from the corner of her eye. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. But then again, did he ever? She loved and appreciated the intricate yet subtle paradox that was nature—something Inuyasha did not enjoy, unless of course he was too afraid to admit it, which was quite possible. Inuyasha always hated exposing his softer side, though she thought it was his most beautiful asset. Like nature, Inuyasha was a paradox she felt inadequate to understand.

They stayed like that, in silence for a long time until Inuyasha spoke.

"I was scared," he said with a strange tone.

Kagome snapped her head to the side and stared at him with wide eyes. It was indeed a rarity for him to admit fear. It was evidence to an overall lack of control over the situation, which was most unsettling for Inuyasha.

"Huh?" she replied a bit bewildered.

"I thought you all might die. I felt helpless," he said softly as he cocked his head to the side. She was impressed and a little uneasy that he had made eye contact with her. Usually he would avert his eyes and face away to shelter his embarrassment of such a tender moment. He wasn't shying away…

"I don't know what I would have done," he said in a delicate whisper. This was obviously hard for him to say without damaging his fragile ego. Or was it just painful? She couldn't tell, but she hoped it was the latter. "I would be lost…without you."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She debated asking him to repeat himself just to make sure she wasn't delirious—she had just been poisoned after all. Was the man she loved actually beginning to return her feelings? This emotional declaration was definitely a step in the right direction. His voice was so soft, so sincere that it made her heart melt. His tender words caused her body to become warm all over and a shiver ran down her back as though she were anticipating something. But what was she hoping for?

"Inuyasha…"

Before she could speak the words she could no longer remember he kissed her. It was fiery and hungry, belying the pent-up passion the two held for one another yet refused to express. The intensity of feeling poured through their parted lips that neither was brave enough to embrace until this moment. It was sweet and powerful and Kagome's stomach fluttered at the feel of his hands gripping her waist as though she was his most precious commodity.

She never wanted this long-awaited moment to end, but unfortunately she needed to breathe. She pulled away reluctantly and looked at Inuyasha's face as she gasped for some desperately needed oxygen that seemingly refused to satisfy her lungs. Her body felt so foreign, as though all clarity and sense of being had been lost during her fervor. The image of her love finally became focused as her body cooled from its feverish temperature. Inuyasha's eyes were half-closed as he panted for air and his face was slightly flushed. He looked good like this—all flustered after getting lost in such an intoxicating stupor, as though he had a little too much sake. She wondered if she looked as drunk and hazy. She began to ponder how good he would look after a more intimate moment…

"Oh, Kikyou…I've waited to do that for so long," he whispered.

All the sweet little tremors that were still quaking through her post-ardor body suddenly ceased as the air became difficult to intake, as though it was a viscous liquid incompatible with her lungs. Her heart was pounding for dear life as she fell off her elated cloud and came tumbling back to the earth. Her world had just collapsed around her with the utterance of one simple word. _Kikyou…_

And it had been so perfect too, with the most serene and romantic setting—topped off with an abundance of sparkling fireflies. Inuyasha had been so caring when he first arrived and they had shared a comfortable silence before…before he had decided to take their relationship to the next level. She was so happy that he had finally taken that step and the kiss was so intense and insatiable that when she parted from his mouth she was immediately left wanting. And then he tore it all apart by uttering a single word. Her first kiss, though the kiss itself was wonderful, was wasted on a man who wasn't even thinking of her when he claimed her lips.

She didn't even bother berating him for his trespass. She just stood abruptly, tears hanging from the bottom of her eyelashes, and stared at him with the most painful expression. Then she turned and ran quickly into the forest. She needed to get away from him as soon as possible. He didn't come after her, but that was a good thing she supposed. He had ruined her perfect moment and discarded their future together as though she were last week's trash. Some people might have thought she was overreacting, but by the gods it hurt.

And all it took was three syllables…

_xxx_

She crawled into her sleeping bag after sitting on it for only the gods know how long. She had been thinking about _that_ again. It wasn't a true betrayal because Inuyasha wasn't her boyfriend, but he had traitorously burned her nonetheless. He knew how she felt about him and he had the audacity to _steal_ her first kiss while picturing Kikyou in his arms instead of her. Maybe he did feel for her and had good intentions in mind, but he should not have toyed with her emotions if he still longed for the undead miko who shared some uncanny similarities to her—similarities that the gods had preordained for some demented reason. It was deranged for the simple fact that the fates decided to intertwine her destiny with a hanyou she would inevitably fall for—a hanyou who could never love her for _her_.

It just wasn't right. She had tried to hate him for it, but she couldn't.

She couldn't even return to her era that night because they were too far from the well. They also had to deal with the Shichinitai. She couldn't leave his side for a while to come, so she sucked it up and pretended that nothing had happened at first. But a part of her wanted to focus on it—on her pain. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted Inuyasha to apologize—to say something so that disgusting tang would diminish and the bile would retreat from her throat. But he said…nothing. Inuyasha, the one in the wrong who had hurt his friend, acted like it had never happened and it stung, _badly_.

Why was she thinking about that again? Because Inuyasha was missing in action earlier.

She had gone back to Kaede's hut where she found her friends sitting around a small fire and chatting amiably while sipping on some tea. It was a pleasant sight, one that always filled her heart with joyous warmth. She truly loved these people…

But she lied to the people she so loved. She had told them her grandfather had a heart attack last night and she had to stay in her era for a while to help her mother take care of him. It also explained the bags of exhaustion under her eyes since she supposedly spent the night at the hospital. After briefly explaining cardiovascular diseases to them, her friends completely agreed with her decision saying it was important to spend time with her sick relative. She felt terribly guilty. Maybe she should have been honest with them, especially since Inuyasha was no where to be seen. But she had been too cowardly to spill the truth. Miroku had stuck up for her the previous night and she didn't want his troubles to be in vain. She didn't want to prove Inuyasha right, though she had a strange feeling she was eventually going to do just that…

She only stayed briefly with her friends, for her mind had been preoccupied with other things—things that a semi-conscious taiyoukai had said to her.

"Who…are…you?"

To say she was stunned was a vast understatement. His struggled words, though not the central focus of her attention, were still highly unexpected. She would have assumed him to be angry to have awoken with a human hovering over his broken body, seeing him so defenseless and vulnerable, not to mention the fact that he had a great distaste for her kind. But what truly snagged her preoccupation at that moment was his face. His physical agony was apparent, marring his usually graceful features. Even when Inuyasha severed his arm in that one surprising swoop, Sesshoumaru showed no pain. He simply stood there panting, until his weight forced him to meet the ground because time had not yet allowed him to adapt to the awkwardness of his new limitation.

Surprisingly, the signs of suffering plastered on his face like an open book was still not the object of her focus. He had a strange twinkle in his eyes—eyes that were normally colder than ice, devoid of all emotion as though his ability to express any feelings whatsoever had been locked inside his glacial heart. Sesshoumaru looked confused and his bewilderment seeped into his raspy voice as well. Never had she seen Sesshoumaru dumbfounded and she didn't know how to react to such an unpredicted turn of events.

He was staring intensely at her like she was the most interesting thing his eyes had ever seen. He was so confused, and possibly disoriented, that he seemed on the border of panic, with only a thread holding him in the realm of rationality. His once impenetrable cord of control had thinned to a mere string that threatened to snap at any moment, and she was sure Sesshoumaru was unaccustomed to such a predicament. The possibility of him losing it was quite unsettling. She had to ease his mind, but how? She had never seen Sesshoumaru bordering on the edge of instability. This was too weird for her to handle.

"K-Kagome," she gulped with uncertainty.

He turned his head away from her and sniffed the air for a few seconds and then his expression relaxed a bit. His confusion seemed to be diminishing, though she did catch a glimpse of a new emotion settling in his eyes. To her surprise, the emotion remained there as though he did not care to hide it from her. He looked…_defeated_? He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't even try to sit up as she had anticipated—he was awfully independent after all, and with good reason. Maybe he was in too much pain to try.

"Do I know you?" he asked softly, so softly that Kagome almost missed his words.

His tone was gentle, with a strange tinge to it that she couldn't identify. She sat rigidly, frozen by his delicate whisper. She had never heard him speak without that frighteningly cold and authoritative presence enveloping his words like an ever-present melody that soothingly hummed with dark intent. His voice was still that beautiful tune that flowed like silk, but it was different—it did not speak of death.

She attempted to word her thoughts to formulate an answer for him, and then it struck her like an eerie volt of imaginary electricity. Sesshoumaru didn't recognize her. Of course he wouldn't waste his time storing a lowly human's name into his long-term memory, but he seemed like the type that didn't miss a single detail. He had never referred to her as 'Kagome,' but he always knew who she was—his brother's 'wench.' She had fought him on several occasions after all, but didn't inu-youkai recall scents without a second's thought? Inuyasha despised Kouga and yet he could immediately pick up the wolf youkai's scent. Surely Sesshoumaru, being a full-blooded demon, would remember her scent. It was a survival instinct for their kind so they could instantly differentiate friend from foe.

He turned his head and opened his eyes half-mast to look upon her face, deeming her speechless again. The weary look on his face told her he was on the verge of losing consciousness once more. His body had withstood a considerable amount of damage so it seemed natural for him to seep into a welcomed slumber.

"You have very nice eyes," he said in a feather-like tone as his eyes closed completely.

Did she just hear him correctly? Did the human-hating Sesshoumaru just _compliment_ her? This was odd, _too_ odd for comfort. While bandaging the unconscious Sesshoumaru she had thought over various situations that could have occurred when he awakened. And none of them were remotely close to what had just transpired. And when she thought his reactions couldn't get any stranger he spoke again, turning the world as she knew it upside down.

"You smell pleasant. It's relaxing," he trailed off as sleep overtook him.

She pinched herself harshly on several places of exposed skin. This had to be a freakish dream. She must have fallen asleep after patching him up and now her psyche was obtaining its revenge for lack of sleep. Either that, or she was having hallucinations— once again compliments of a disgruntled psyche that was not appreciative of her poor health-consciousness.

After splashing some cold water on her face, she had come to the conclusion that she was indeed awake. This made her ponder his words even further. He had not only complimented her—he complimented her _twice_. He had also been direct, whereas Inuyasha would have said something seemingly degrading that had to be deciphered as kind words. First of all, she could not imagine Sesshoumaru saying nice things to her at all, and if he were to say such things she would have imagined his words being delivered in a similar manner to Inuyasha's abrupt method. It appeared less like a compliment that way. But then again, Sesshoumaru was more mature and probably wiser than Inuyasha, so why beat around the bush? Well, he also possessed an unhealthy hatred of humans, so him directing compliments to her was simply disturbing.

'_So, I have 'nice eyes,' eh?'_

That thought brought a giddy smile to her lips. The fact that such a beautiful creature thought her eyes and scent pleasing was doing a quick job of upping her self-esteem a few notches. Especially considering how a certain hanyou never said _anything_ about her eyes, which annoyed her to no end considering her eyes were the most shockingly apparent difference between her and Kikyou. She _did_ resemble Kikyou, but with a second glance one could list off their physical differences—starting with their eyes. She had blue eyes, which were quite unique in this part of the world, whereas Kikyou had brown ones. Wasn't that an _obvious_ difference? Even if it was, Inuyasha was sure as hell tight-lipped about that fact.

Pushing away all thoughts of Kikyou, she focused on Sesshoumaru's compliments so she could continue reveling in this rare feeling of elation. She wasn't conceited, but it was so uncommon for her to hear such things that she felt she had earned the right to gloat a little. It wasn't like there was anyone around to brag to anyhow.

He said she smelt 'pleasant' and that the scent was soothing. At least she now knew that youkai liked her scent. Was that why she attracted so many of them? She had always assumed it was because of the Shikon no Tama shards on her person. Okay, now she was too wrapped up in her self-praising mode. Of course it was because of the sacred jewel, but it was nice to think otherwise.

But…but that meant that Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha's malevolent half-brother, found her scent alluring. That was a bit shocking, though he said merely 'pleasant,' but hey, a girl could dream, right? She began mentally reprimanding herself for that particular wayward thought. This was the human-hating Sesshoumaru; she should not want him to find her scent enticing. Then why did she feel so excited by the prospect? It had to be his looks…

He said it was 'relaxing'… Had he always thought this? Was he truly just stating what was on his mind since his inhibitions were shot? He had to be delirious—only trauma-induced dementia would have brought about such words from Sesshoumaru. But it was nice to think that he had always enjoyed the way she smelt from the first time he met her.

This line of thinking had to come to an abrupt halt or else Kagome would later feel guilty about her traitorous thoughts that revolved around a certain taiyoukai—one that hated her for something she could not help. It was utterly ridiculous anyway to care what he thought of her just because he was pretty. Kouga was handsome, but she rarely thought about how he saw her. Well, he outwardly expressed to the world that he loved her so not much thought about the issue was required. He was pretty open and didn't seem to mind humans, though he teased Inuyasha for being a hanyou. It would seem he failed to realize that 'mating' with her would produce hanyou pups. That made her conclude that Kouga only picked on Inuyasha's lineage to provoke him into a childish argument that always erupted into a brotherly skirmish. Sometimes she thought they actually enjoyed each other's presence, if only for an amusing excursion from a usually tedious day.

But Sesshoumaru was different; he was a complete enigma. He always appeared to be deep in thought, which was revealed everytime he entered battle. It was difficult to get the better of the taiyoukai for that reason and, excluding Inuyasha, she could not recall a time she witnessed Sesshoumaru engage in a pointless battle that resulted in unnecessary bloodshed. Now that she really thought about it, it was indeed a strange fact since he was such a ruthless killer, or had they unfairly labeled him? Nevertheless, his stoic and aloof disposition had always intrigued her. She would give anything to spend a day inside his head just to get a feel for what he thinks. That would be the experience of a lifetime!

She walked to her backpack and retrieved the protective sutras that Miroku had given her. She apparently could not evade thoughts of Sesshoumaru and so she decided it was time to leave so she could speak with her friends. She couldn't help it though; not since Sesshoumaru definitely threw her a hefty portion of the unexpected, thusly throwing her balance off. Something was off about him, for she had never before witnessed emotions playing in his eyes or soft words escaping his lips. He was always mysterious and unlike anyone she had ever met, but today he was different from his usual self.

'_Oh well, no sense in getting all worked up over it. I'll just have to wait until he wakes up again.'_

She slapped a few sutras on a tree and pondered her last thought for a moment. What if he was back to his usual self when he awoke again? That wouldn't be good, but it was what she had anticipated from the start. Well, he'd probably still be too banged up to cause her problems and then he would have time to realize that he shouldn't kill her…maybe… A deviant part of her mind hoped he'd be like he was earlier, even though she was pretty sure it was related to his recent trauma. The old Sesshoumaru would return soon enough so she might as well enjoy this other Sesshoumaru for a while.

What was she thinking? He barely said a word to her and now she's taking a liking to him because he complimented her. Well, he_ had_ to be different right now because the normal Sesshoumaru was entirely too prideful to say sweet things to a human, even if they were deserving of his praise. She was just being a stupid girl, fawning over a handsome man that complimented her, that was all. At the very best she should be hoping that this chain of events would bestow him with a more favorable opinion of humans, not just her.

Now that she thought about it, Sesshoumaru was the real reason she delved back into the past and remembered the most hurtful moment of her adult life. Sesshoumaru had noticed her eyes. Inuyasha had once looked into her eyes—the most obvious physical difference between herself and Kikyou—and still he mistook her for the incarnation. It was disheartening at the very least. Why was this painful path hers to tread?

Unbeknownst to Kagome, the fates were about to throw her another strange irony. As she drifted off to sleep she pondered how Sesshoumaru would react toward her when he was fully conscious. What would he do and say when he was completely aware of his surroundings? It was a bit scary to even think about.

If only she knew that when Sesshoumaru fully awoke, all he would remember was blue eyes…

**x x x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 4: **

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_**For causation to occur a logical connection must be established, even if the relationship is only rational in theory…**_

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He blinked several times, trying to eradicate that annoying brightness from his eyes. Whatever it was, it was determined to bother him until he was delightfully abrupt and irritable. It was the sun… Why did it take him so long to realize that piece of common knowledge? He had just awoken, that much was apparent, but how long had he been asleep? His eyes were burning from the light, which made him believe he had slept for quite some time.

…

Was it normal for him to sleep for long periods of time?

…

Okay…his mind seemed a bit groggy. Maybe a bath would make him feel better and then he could gain some awareness.

…

Did a bath normally make him feel better?

…

Perhaps he should stop thinking since it seemed he was drawing nothing but blanks. It would prove easy to cease all current mental activities since his body suddenly flared to life with pain. His back felt as though it was ablaze and his face was tingling with sharp sensations. Everything else felt terrible, like his body was broken. But the worst of all was his arm—his left arm. It felt like it was being stabbed with a heated blade and it stung horribly with searing hot pain. And it was itching, which might be an indication that it was undergoing the healing process. If only he could scratch it…

**x x x**

It had been three days. Three long, boring, but wonderfully productive days. Since her patient had not awoken for the last seventy-two hours she had kept busy by studying for her finals that would begin at the end of the week. She actually couldn't have asked for a better studying situation seeing as no one had bothered her. No interruptions whatsoever—no Souta to bombard her with questions, no Shippou to demand attention, no Inuyasha to appease—nope, there was definitely nothing to distract her studious mind. It was actually refreshing to be able to give her full attention to something so important without having to worry about anyone.

Well, she had to worry about Sesshoumaru and change his bandages everyday, but he wasn't much of a talker, therefore he caused no disruptions to her quiet time. He was actually quite the listener, which she had discovered when she decided to spill her heart to him about his idiotic brother last night when she got bored. All right, so he was unconscious, but that was only circumstantial. He seemed like a good listener, even _when conscious_. If he lived in her era he would be a therapist, she felt sure of it. Now that was stupid. Sesshoumaru would've rebuked her for her human folly revolving around useless emotions. Then he would've probably killed her. She briefly imagined him with depressed patients. No doubt his methods would yield high suicide rates. He could just look at them in that belittling way of his and they'd go running home to convert their suicidal tendencies into full-blown actions. No, he would most definitely not be a therapist in her time. He would probably be a cutthroat industrialist specializing in advanced offensive military technologies. That way the humans could take each other out and leave the 'worthy' youkai to rule the post-human world after the apocalypse. That thought made her shudder with dread. Sesshoumaru seemed savvy enough to make that dream a reality if he desired it enough. _Scary…_

Her strange wayward thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she heard cloth shuffling. She looked over at Sesshoumaru and noticed his right arm reaching over his chest. It must have been sore and in need of stretching. Wait…that meant he must've awoken. She had no idea how to handle this situation. He was harmless and rather amiable three days ago, but that was three days ago. It was quite possible that now he would be fully aware of his surroundings and would be very displeased to see her. She had settled this matter in her mind by convincing herself that if he was angry when he rose then she needn't worry because he would most likely be physically unable to attack her. Then she would leave. But what if his body healed even quicker than she thought? What if he was physically capable of slaughtering or maiming her? Inuyasha would still be down from such injuries, but he wasn't Inuyasha…

His right hand was now gripping the empty sleeve and then she heard him gasp sharply. Was he in pain? Should she say something? "Sesshoumaru?" she asked shakily.

His head immediately turned her way and when their eyes connected it was her turn to inhale sharply. His eyes were wide, not narrow as she had expected, and his mouth was hanging open. She had never seen that one before. He looked confused, painfully confused. His breathing was thickening and she was sure panic was overtaking him again. This reminded her of his first awakening. Could it be that Sesshoumaru was still delirious?

"My-my…my arm."

His erratic breaths slowed and his face relaxed a bit. He was letting the information sink in she supposed. Wait…he was acting like this was new, shocking information!

"It's gone," he said softly as he looked away from her. "But I can feel it."

He was experiencing phantom sensations and to top it off he was acting like he didn't know his arm was severed in battle. That could cause huge psychological distress.

"Don't you remember?" she asked.

He turned to look at her again, this time a small light of recognition shone in his eyes. She was glad for this—she wasn't exactly stoked about taking on such a delicate subject. But just a moment ago he really looked like he didn't know what had happened…

"I…remember you."

Oh…gods…what was going on? He remembered her, but not losing his arm? That was entirely too strange for her liking.

"You remember me? What do you recall?"

"Your eyes."

Oh _gods_! She could feel it rising, but there was no stopping its unrelenting journey. She could feel the red heat spreading across her cheeks and over her nose until it covered her entire face. Then it would travel downward until it reached her collarbone. Why did she blush so badly when she became embarrassed?

"Uh…Sesshoumaru…"

He now looked crestfallen as though some nasty kid had crushed his favorite toy and stole his lollipop in the process. He looked like that kid that finally came to terms with the fact that they were always going to be bullied. Something had clicked into place in his mind…and it wasn't good…

"You said that earlier," he said as he looked off into the distance behind her. "Is that my name?" She nodded slowly.

'_OH KAMI!'_ Sesshoumaru had lost his memory! Sesshoumaru couldn't remember anything! Sesshoumaru didn't know his name was Sesshoumaru! This was bad!

"What is your name?"

Sesshoumaru wanted to know her name! Sesshoumaru had never before wanted to know her name! She swore she could feel the earth spinning at that moment and she feared that gravity would fail at any second and she would plummet off into space. This was not what she had expected.

"Kagome."

"Kagome," he whispered, her name rolling off his tongue like a sweet delicacy. She had never heard him say her name before and to be quite honest, she liked how he said her name—she liked it _very _much.

"I can't remember…anything. You knew my name. You know me?"

That look in his eyes spoke of hope. He wanted some answers, but would he like what she had to tell? She knew very little about him, but what she did know was not exactly praise-worthy. He had done terrible things, things that sparked fear and dread within the hearts of many.

But he had also spared Inuyasha and let Kohaku live. He had killed Mukotsu, thus saving her life as well as the lives of Miroku and Sango.

He looked after an orphaned little girl…

"We were not exactly close," she began uncomfortably. "But I do know some things about you." She paused, not knowing where to begin while he just continued to stare at her, awaiting his answers. "Uh…your arm. I was there when you lost it."

How was she supposed to tell him this—that his own brother took his arm? How was she supposed to tell him that it happened because his anger and hatred had compelled him to do horrible things? How was she to tell him that he was obsessed with trifling things? Should she just spill it and tell him that he was a bigot, despising his own brother because his blood wasn't pure? How the hell should she approach this? Seriously, she didn't sign up for this thinking she'd be dealing with an amnesic Sesshoumaru.

He was still looking at her, waiting for her to continue—waiting for her to tell him what had transpired on that dreadful day when he lost his arm. Little did he know that he was anticipating horrendous news.

"Your brother, or half-brother really, cut it off."

He looked positively shocked. His face was marred with the most bitter expression she could recall ever seeing. Did this news hurt him…?

"Why?" he choked out.

She sighed, once again unsure of what to say. Maybe she should just say it all…

"You and your brother never really got along. You fought over a sword—an heirloom." Or maybe she wouldn't say it all… But what he said next wasn't what she had anticipated, not _at all_.

"What is his name? My brother?"

He didn't ask for a detailed recollection of the battle. He didn't ask about the sword. He didn't ask for whom the heirloom was rightfully intended. He wanted to know his brother's name.

And he didn't even add the word 'half' to it…

"Inuyasha."

Then Sesshoumaru tipped the world over once again.

"What is he like?"

She was stunned, nearly speechless. Out of all the things he could've ask, he asked this. He could have prompted her for all the details of what she knew of him, but instead he chose to learn more about his estranged younger brother.

"Well," she said quietly, again trying to determine a point of origin, "he's younger than you and he's only a half-demon—"

"I am youkai?"

That was certainly unexpected. He needed to quit surprising her before she lost her mind—this was just too surreal!

"Yes, a taiyoukai to be exact. Inuyasha had a human mother."

"I see. Demons and humans usually do not care for one another, do they?"

"No."

"This is why my brother and I did not 'get along'?"

Sesshoumaru definitely caught on quickly. He must have a very inquisitive mind to decipher such a truth from subtle clues.

"Yeah, basically." He didn't speak for a while, but when he did, Kagome began to question everything she knew of him.

"Did I wrong him? The day he took my arm?"

His eyes looked hazy and distant, as though he knew the truth, but didn't want to face it. She wondered if he regretted asking, but he stood fast, bravely awaiting the consequences…

"Yes." She lowered her head, expecting him to say nothing…but Sesshoumaru wasn't done throwing the unexpected into her day.

"You still have not told me about him."

She smiled genuinely at the demon lying on his back, his features soft and hard simultaneously. Sesshoumaru was not what she had expected at all. "Oh, yeah… Where to begin?"

**x x x**

When he had tried to scratch that ridiculous itch, he found…nothing. His left arm was not there. All that he could find was a stump just below his shoulder, though he could swear he felt his limb as though it was still attached to his body.

But he drew a blank, again. He frantically searched his mind as though trying to find something important he had lost. He looked in every possible corner that may harbor what he had misplaced, but he found…nothing. When he realized he couldn't remember why his arm was gone, he then realized that he didn't know where he was from or how he got here. Then he noticed that he couldn't even recall his own name. He had forgotten, but how does one forget his own name?

There was only one possible answer—he had lost his memory, but how? And _that _was the ultimate problem—he couldn't _remember_ how. He was obviously attacked; his body gave that much away, and his memory must've been lost in that recent battle. This was not a good situation to be in…

Then he lost it. He began to panic as though some malevolent force was holding him in the realm of the living by a mere thread. It would snap at any moment, forcing him to plummet into the realm of the netherworld and he was not prepared for that. How could one face his own transgressions if he could not even recall what he had done?

"Sesshoumaru?"

He turned to the bearer of that voice—that voice that was hauntingly familiar as though it had originated from a ghost within his own dreams. It was a girl and something about her scratched the surface of his mind, asking to be released. For some unknown reason it frightened him and he refused to face it just yet. So he focused on his missing limb.

"My-my…my arm. It's gone," he said softly as he looked away from her. "But I can feel it."

"Don't you remember?" she asked.

No, he _did not _remember. He looked at her intensely this time, studying her features. When his eyes met hers he noticed their unique color. She had blue eyes. He remembered those eyes.

"I…remember you."

She appeared shocked that he remembered her. Why? Was she not here by his side? This girl was strange indeed.

"You remember me? What do you recall?"

Didn't she realize he remembered nothing? Perhaps they were not well acquainted. But if that was the case, then why was she here? A voice in the back of his head whispered to him that perhaps she was simply a kind soul. Why did that thought make him feel so empty? Maybe it was because that particular alternative screamed of loneliness. But why ponder it? It wasn't as if he could remember if he had led a lonely life.

"Your eyes."

That comment flustered her so badly she literally turned red. How strangely sweet… Why was that sweet? He had no clue.

"Uh…Sesshoumaru…"

That was the second time she had said that name. Was that his name?

"You said that earlier. Is that my name?"

She nodded very slowly, belying her disbelief. She apparently was starting to grasp the concept that he could in fact recall nothing. Who was this girl with the familiar eyes?

"What is your name?"

This girl had very odd expressions. They were also bold, openly relaying her current feelings, which he had noticed seemed to change quite frequently. He then realized that he couldn't identify many of the emotions playing on her face, though he could tell they were altering every so often. _'Strange…'_

"Kagome."

"Kagome," he repeated softly. She reacted funny to that—had he repeated her name incorrectly? He thought not and decided it was time to get to the point. "I can't remember…anything. You knew my name. You know me?"

He needed her to know. He needed her to tell him something so that at least he could have some tangible recollection to hold onto so that he didn't walk about as a completely blank slate. The thought of being merely a shell did not sit well with him. He needed to begin rebuilding and he hoped that she could provide him with the foundation.

"We were not exactly close," she began uncomfortably. "But I do know some things about you." She paused and he waited patiently for her to continue. He felt a bit disappointed at this knowledge because she would be unable to give him a plethora of much needed information. But maybe she could lead him to people that could? "Uh…your arm. I was there when you lost it."

Well, _that_ would certainly be nice to know. He was missing a major limb after all and he had no idea as to why that was the case. He realized he felt oddly compelled to know the reasons behind things—like his origins, his current state of immobility and such. He didn't even know if he was capable of defending himself. Did he lose his memory because he lacked battle savvy? His head was spinning from his hunger for knowledge and—

"Your brother, or half-brother really, cut it off."

He stopped his thoughts and focused his sight on the girl, though he had been staring blankly at her the entire time.

He hadn't even thought about that yet. What kind of person was he?

"Why?" This news made his heart sink like an anchor in water, the burden too heavy to float upon the surface. This pain ran deeper than water—he could feel it…in his blood.

"You and your brother never really got along. You fought over a sword—an heirloom."

So, he picked on his brother and his brother cut his arm off in spite? No, she was hiding something from him. Her blatant pauses, her subtle changes in pitch, her rapidly blinking eyes—all this whispered of hatred. He needed to know—he felt compelled to learn the truth no matter how much hurt it promised to inflict.

Maybe he was the type that didn't know how to drop things…

"What is his name? My brother?"

"Inuyasha." She seemed pleasantly surprised, though she was completely unaware of all the suffering that was building inside of him, threatening to burst through his veins. He could not remember, but he could feel the malice on edge at the mention of that name. Though he had forgotten the syllables, he had not forgotten the implications it held that was tapping on the edge of his psyche before she even spoke it.

_Inuyasha… _Much had been caused by that name, but what? He could not recall…

"What is he like?"

"Well, he is younger than you and he's only a half-demon—"

"I am youkai?" He knew the answer before she had even confirmed it. He was…different than his brother. This must have caused many problems, but why?

"Yes, a taiyoukai to be exact. Inuyasha had a human mother."

So he was one of the most powerful of his kind. An impure bloodline was looked down upon, was it not? "I see. Demons and humans usually do not care for one another, do they?"

"No."

"This is why my brother and I did not 'get along'?"

"Yeah, basically."

It was strange, but he knew these things, though he could not decipher a point of origin. It was surreal and he didn't like it one bit. He liked the ground where he could feel everything under his feet, knowing what it was he treaded upon. He despised the water where anything could be lurking below him. He disliked its unfamiliarity, which was why he couldn't stand knowing these things while not knowing where he had learned them. He had no points of reference and it was infuriating!

For example, how did he know he disliked water? It was all so pointless to contemplate. He would just recall blanks and further disappoint his overwhelmed mind.

Then another thought teased his delicate mind, causing his hair to stand on end. She was very apprehensive about sharing this information with him for very obvious reasons. And she seemed to know his brother… And he seemed to possess a questionable character… It crashed over him like waves breaking upon the sand, leaving behind cluttered residue that no one wished to keep.

"Did I wrong him? The day he took my arm?"

He needed to know—he _had _to know. He would not cower away; he would stand his ground and take it. He would absorb the impact of the tsunami-like consequences if that were what she had to give him.

"Yes."

The waves crashed into him, but he still stood. His throat felt tight from the harshness of her implications. He was not a good person, was he? But why? Why was he this way? Surely no one was born innately evil, were they? That seemed too simplistic and he was not one to take the easier path because it implied less effort.

Yes, he supposed he really wasn't the type to sway with the tides. He was an obsessive person, for he needed to know why he went bad, and he would find out. But for now he would like to learn more about his estranged family, hoping that it would shed some light on his own persona. Or maybe it would spark a forgotten memory.

"You still have not told me about him."

**x x x**

She talked and talked about Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru listened intently. Yep, she was right, he _was_ a good listener. He seemed slightly disturbed the whole time as though he could not believe he had treated his brother as such. It made her wonder why Sesshoumaru was so ruthless and cold before. He was practically a blank slate now, though he knew certain things, especially cultural or societal norms. But his knowledge of these things frustrated him because he had no memory of where or how he had learned them. Memories were nice things, for they reminded one why they turned out the way they did and what experiences life had granted them. Every time she thought of death her mind transported her back to that day when she was six years old walking back to the shrine with her mother.

It was funny how memories worked. Most people would have thought about their dead father when the subject of the afterlife came up, but instead she thought of a dog.

Sesshoumaru didn't have these recollections, and thus he had nothing to tell him who he was. No matter how sweet or bitter a memory was, it was a part of a person's foundation. And that would never change.

She had planned on leaving Sesshoumaru to his own devices when he was fully conscious, but not now. She would help him regain his memory and if she failed, she could at least help him obtain some new memories. But she didn't want to fail. She now wanted to know, more than ever, what had happened to Sesshoumaru in the past that made him into the feared youkai she had known.

**x x x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 5:**

The fire danced wildly before his disinterested eyes, though he tried with mild attentiveness to trace the origin and demise of each flame. He did realize that a single flame could not die per se, but if he looked hard enough he could separate each individual flame and follow the spontaneous path it chose to travel until it reached its destination. But the destination was not truly an end, but rather the flame would recede within itself and spark anew almost instantaneously.

He had been staring at this fire for far too long he realized. His eyes were starting to burn as though those unpredictable and never-ending flames had licked his exposed sockets with a fiery tongue. He even saw those wicked flames whenever he looked away from that damnable fire that the girl insisted she needed. It was a very warm night, but she had stated with severity that the fire would provide much needed light for her 'study session'. Whatever that was.

Basically, he was bored. He was bored beyond reason. He was so bored that even the word 'bored' seemed far too simple and insignificant to describe the level of tedium he was experiencing.

He looked over at the girl who had left him to this terrible fate for the evening. She had been staring at those books for hours. Despite her intermittent yawning and obvious difficulty in deciphering those tiny, black characters, she continued on, reading and studying away as though her life depended on her ability to maintain this 'study session' for as long as humanly possible.

It did sound quite ridiculous to him, but she had outright said that she would _die_ if she could not remember _everything_ she read. It was insane actually, especially considering her poor sight in this inadequate lighting—no thanks to those stupid flames that somehow lured his eyes toward their orange and red brilliance as though their hypnotic dance was the most fascinating thing his bored eyes had ever seen.

He had to stop looking at that fire. But he was so very bored…

He looked back at the girl who continued to read frantically, though her initial haste had slowed quite a bit. Her exhaustion was becoming more and more evident as time passed and he was sure she would not recall _every_ last word she read. He supposed she might die after all. But that really did seem _so_ exaggerated and ridiculous. After observing the girl for the last three days he had realized many things about her that he figured could be applied as a few loose generalizations about humans overall.

Firstly, humans possessed very inferior physiques. The girl had terrible hearing—hearing that was so bad one could rightly think her near deafness. She did not even hear that spider walking—no, running madly—through the grass until it reached her leg. The spider was quite loud during its furious sprint and since she obviously disliked its breed immensely he would have assumed her to be on alert for such creatures she found so menacing, though he could hardly see the harm in such an insignificant and weak insect. But the girl did not notice the spider until it crawled over her arm and he chose to say something about it. She had swatted at her leg a few times, thinking she had a simple itch—that was until he informed her of the little prowler lurking on her right arm. She lost her mind at that point. She hollered and screamed and proceeded to run about madly all the while begging him to 'get it off' her. She even began sobbing. It was a horrible yet oddly fascinating sight—one in which he found he could not tear his eyes from in its glorious stupidity. He just simply could not believe that she was so unnerved by that tiny insect. He had asked her plainly why she allowed the spider to approach her if she despised its existence. She had replied that she didn't know it was there until he had informed her.

Humans could barely hear. How was it they survived? And not only that, but he shortly learned that she had poor sight and a practically non-existent sense of smell and her physical strength was on par with that of a rabbit—pathetic indeed… Humans were basically weak and unfit for proper existence. How they managed to live was an answer that had eluded him thus far. Maybe not all humans were as physically handicapped as Kagome. He suddenly didn't feel so bad about losing his arm.

Secondly, he discovered that humans were very emotional creatures. For instance, just yesterday the girl became distraught over his lack of speech. Quite frankly he was a bit groggy and his mind was preoccupied with other things—like his inability to remember his past. That seemed to be causing him problems as of late—since 'as of late' was all he could recall anyhow—and thus it demanded a great deal of his thoughts' time. But Kagome saw this a little differently. She continued asking him if he was 'feeling all right' and did he 'need anything' and whether he'd 'like to talk'. He had finally grown tired of her incessant blabbering and told her that he would speak when he felt it necessary. He felt it was a candid and unremarkable answer for it simply made sense, but she apparently felt different on the matter. She called him rude and accused him of harboring ill feelings that would eventually lead to him exploding with rage. He felt a bit skeptical of her statement, naturally wondering if it was a retort based upon experience or a muddled analysis rooted within her anger toward him at that moment. She even called him 'deaf,' which he found most humorous since she couldn't even hear a noisy spider running up her own leg!

It was strange, indeed, but after witnessing her complain about his 'spacey' behavior for a few more minutes he came to realize that she was simply upset that he wasn't speaking to _her_. After confronting her with his theory, she huffed and sank to the ground sputtering some nonsense about loneliness. Humans were highly emotional creatures that didn't like to be alone and craved conversation. He presumed that this conversation they so craved was a measure they took to make themselves and their lives feel more significant. The girl, for example, loved to talk about her family and friends, her schooling, and she _especially_ liked to talk about her problems. And she got particularly upset when he did not respond to her exasperated monologues concerning her 'issues.' At first this confused him because he was under the impression that she just wanted someone to listen to her, but apparently she wanted more. She wanted feedback. She wanted advice. She became especially flustered when he told her that he could not give advice for a situation he knew so little about. She then confessed that 'advice' made her feel better.

Humans were most definitely emotional creatures—so emotional in fact that they could not separate emotions from any other aspect of their lives. The girl tied emotions to her duties and obligations no matter how important or menial they were. He found it quite odd. For example, the girl had prepared a meal earlier that afternoon for the two of them, saying he 'needed to eat.' She was probably right so he forced himself to eat the watery concoction she had made. She asked him how it tasted and he responded simply that it was sufficient. That enraged her for some reason. She said he was ungrateful and he shouldn't eat something he found so 'incredibly rancid.' That certainly confused him, for though he could recall nothing at all he felt sure that food was meant for simple consumption in order to nourish the body. She seemed to think differently and was offended that he did not find her meal to be tasty. Basically, the girl tied useless emotions to the mundane task of food preparation when really she shouldn't have cared if he enjoyed the process of strengthening his body.

But he supposed that if she got upset over his lack of speech then surely she would get irritated over many trivial things—like this studying that would supposedly end her life if not properly accomplished. She would become delighted over some new piece of information she had just learned or she would beam with pride over her growing accumulation of knowledge, but then she would suddenly become frantic to accomplish more only to become frustrated over the impending task. It was a task, nothing more, but she turned it into a spectacle of varying moods that changed rapidly and had nothing to do with the duty at hand. She should've left her emotions aside and focused on accomplishing the goal. It would have been easier for her that way, but she liked to make things far too complicated. Humans seemed nearly incapable of contentment due to this plethora of emotions they allowed to bombard their minds.

And to top off these already annoying qualities, humans were also very needy creatures. She constantly needed something—whether it be food, rest or a bath. He supposed those were normal needs, though she seemed to need these things quite frequently. But then she complained of _other_ things that she needed. She had said in passing that she needed a 'brighter future' and more 'grounded' people in her life. He found the latter very strange considering she wasn't all that grounded in his eyes, but then he supposed that perhaps more grounded people would do the odd girl some good. She was a girl who got angry over the taste of nourishment after all! But when he asked her to elaborate on certain needs, such as this 'brighter future' she spoke so longingly about, she brushed him aside with a simple 'never mind.' He didn't press her for answers, although he was certain that had the roles been reversed she wouldn't have been so considerate. He did find it strange that she didn't want to clarify these needs to him since she was so fond of talking, but he figured that he wouldn't be of much help considering he could not recall much of anything. Maybe the girl thought he wouldn't understand. But why did she speak it aloud then? Perhaps he just wasn't as skilled at the useless art of small talk as was she.

Or perhaps this emotionality that lingered around Kagome had caused her excessive neediness, which could simply be the natural course for such a frail creature. Humans were definitely not fit for survival, or maybe he hadn't a clue what he was talking about—he often viewed the girl and her oddities as 'different.' This girl could be an anomaly within the human race.

To sum up what he had learned thus far about humans—_if _this girl could be used as a sufficient example of her kind, which he was starting to doubt for some reason beyond his understanding—he would simply say they were strange creatures. But he did find the girl to be amusing and very curious. He found her antics almost charming in their idiocy and predictability.

But then the girl decided to study and now he was bored—so _very_ bored.

And the stupid girl was squinting like the sun was shining directly in her eyes.

"Perhaps you should resume your studying in the morning."

The weary girl snapped her head upward with a start. "Huh?"

And he was the 'deaf' one? She really ought to learn the difference between an inability to hear—or lack thereof in her case—and selective hearing. "You are harming your eyes. You should rest and resume your studies in the daylight hours."

She rolled her eyes at his last statement, which was one of her more annoying antics that he disliked with a passion. Then she waved him off—literally—with her hand as she giggled nervously. Now that was a mannerism he found almost laughable.

"No, no," she said in between little spurts of forced giggles. "I'm fine, really. I study at night all the time."

Had she made any _real_ sense, he supposed he would've respected her wishes. Had his injuries not healed so miraculously fast, compliments of his youkai blood, then he would've been _forced_ to respect her wishes, but since neither of those applied to this situation he therefore decided to disregard her wishes in favor of her health. He stood from his spot that he had occupied for far too long during his boredom and snatched the book from her hands before she even knew he had approached her.

Kind of like that spider…

"Hey!"

He said nothing as he placed the large book in his lap, which he knew would irritate her. She hated it when he didn't speak. She always seemed to think he was ignoring her, but little did she know that she was nearly impossible to ignore.

"Sesshoumaru!" she shouted—obviously forgetting his sensitive hearing. Well, maybe she _didn't _realize she was so loud. She did have terrible hearing and thus it seemed possible that she couldn't decipher the actual decibel in which she was speaking. "I HAVE to study! I have my first final tomorrow morning!" She then stood abruptly and raced around the fire only to lunge at him like a fool. Her intent was far too obvious and her moves far too slow. He lifted the book upward and away from her, causing her to run into his side only to fall on top of him, all the while reaching for her book like a stubborn child. It was a humorous sight indeed.

"Give it back!" she whined while still reaching for the book that was far from her grasp. This was pathetic indeed—he only had one arm for kami's sake!

"If you want it," he said calmly, "then take it."

She then proceeded to crawl onto his lap, which seemed rather inappropriate to him based upon her previous actions, and she lunged for the book again and this time he pulled it back toward his body and she fell into a heap upon the grass. He smirked as she mumbled incoherent curses.

"That wasn't fair!" she stated as she sat up in the grass and turned toward him. She now had dirt smeared across her left cheek. It was almost cute, _almost_.

"And why not? You simply failed to take it in time."

Her anger was rising—he could feel it and it excited him. For some strange reason he liked to irritate her. He assumed it was because she always reacted in such amusing ways and she was so very easy to annoy. This was a great way to relieve that horrible tedium. Or maybe the girl's strangeness was rubbing off on him…

She was practically seething, which always tinted her cheeks a lovely shade of pink, and a strangled noise that sounded like a pathetic growl escaped her throat as she looked at him with narrowed eyes. Was she trying to look menacing? Did she realize it was funny and not the least bit frightening? Her hands twitched slightly and he knew she was preparing to pounce. She was always so obvious, which he presumed to be only natural considering her inferior physique. He waited a moment in order to time her move exactly and then he heard the faint rustle of fabric and quickly placed the book on his left side and extended his arm outward. He easily caught her arm, much to her surprise _and_ dismay, and pulled her toward him. She fell in his lap again. She was always so unsuspecting—if only she could hear better…

She seemed shocked by his reaction and even more unnerved by the consequences of it. She was now in his lap and she appeared quite uncomfortable, but he expected this because the girl always seemed so conscious of her own body. She always made sure to warn him to 'stay away' when she bathed and left to relieve herself. She always craved privacy when it came to her grooming sessions and she always ensured that a certain amount of space was between them. He had sat next to her last night while she studied, asking her about what she was reading. She blushed and he heard her heartbeat quicken and it became quite apparent that she was highly uncomfortable. He surveyed the immediate area to determine what could have put her in a state of such unease and he soon realized that he was sitting so close to her that their hips and arms were touching. In order to prove his theory he put some distance between them and all bodily contact ceased. She then calmed down and was able to formulate coherent sentences.

He was quite curious as to why physical closeness caused such reactions from her, but he came to realize that people felt it inappropriate for members of the opposite sex to be in such close contact. She even got nervous when he was not fully covered, which made sense to him because she was always sure that she was fully clothed. Apparently his shirt had been destroyed when he was attacked and she demanded that he wear a 't-shirt' that she had brought him. It was strange, but he obliged her, though the shirt fit quite poorly. He pondered this for a while and wondered why such idiotic thoughts were placed within people's heads. Unable to come up with an answer on his own, he simply asked the girl, which caused a furious blush to invade her cheeks, spreading over her face like an infectious disease. Apparently speaking of physical contact between the two differing genders was improper. She had told him that society taught their children to avoid 'unnecessary closeness' with the opposite sex in order to prevent 'temptations' and also to ensure that other members of society would not question their 'purity.' He was still unsure about it, but when he asked her to further explain she quickly changed the subject. Did she really think he was 'tempted' by her? And to be honest, he wasn't quite sure what that meant within that particular context. It was strange, but he had a feeling that the meaning of that particular word, which had oddly evaded his consciousness in the contextual sense, was insignificant to him. It was almost as though he had never really been subjected to temptation in his life, or at least he couldn't make the connection. That thought really intrigued him though, and he wondered if maybe he was the type of person who was simply accustomed to getting what he wanted. Temptation did involve wanting something you couldn't or shouldn't have and the girl had called him spoiled on multiple occasions. Perhaps he was and simply could not recall…

It was all silly anyhow. The girl seemed very in sync with the desires of society, but it was only the two of them here in the forest. He thought she should realize that if she wanted to succumb to temptation then she could because no one was here to witness it, and it wasn't like she had to protect her purity if she _wanted_ to rid herself of it. Why should she deny herself when no one was here to berate her for it? He still felt uncertain of the implications of this 'temptation' and 'purity' she spoke of when explaining societal gender rules, but he did know it had to do with him somehow, which left him with a feeling of unease. If she wanted to throw away her purity he wasn't sure he could help her or even agree to do something he did not truly understand. If only the girl had the gall to thoroughly explain this to him.

It simply made no sense the way she chose to explain it and his recognition of societal norms—which had been very keen up until that point—had failed him on that subject. Okay, so men and women were not supposed to maintain any sort of physical contact because they may do something stupid that would result in problems. Fair enough, but what the hell was she talking about? Whatever, it's not like it had anything to do with him…

No matter, he would pressure her to answer later. But now he had a flustered girl to subdue.

He held onto her arm so she could not get away and then leaned down to speak directly into her ear—she _was_ nearly deaf after all. "You will rest and resume your studying tomorrow," he said with sharp finality.

"But-but," she sputtered. "My test is tomorrow!"

He sighed. "I will wake you at dawn. You have been studying diligently. You will do fine." She exhaled in defeat and then he released her, knowing he had won this little battle. She sat up and turned to him, looking him directly in the eyes. He liked it when she looked into his eyes; she had such lovely eyes, but that's not the primary reason he enjoyed holding her eyes' attention. It was because he remembered those eyes and it was so very nice to recognize something—it made him feel a little less empty.

"Fine," she said simply as she moved out of his lap. She moved toward her pack that seemed to hold more than it appeared it could and pulled a small bag out of it. He knew this ritual well—it was one of her favorites. "I'm going to take a bath," she said as she slung a towel over her shoulder.

He watched her retreat into the forest and wondered why she loved that particular ritual so much. She had already taken a bath that day, but she liked to take one before she went to bed as well. She always took one when she awoke, but he supposed that was because she was never really alert when she first rose in the morning. The cool water seemed to do her consciousness and attentiveness some good. At least she was a clean creature and the humidity did make her sweat, and the salty scent would overpower her natural one, and that was never a good thing. He supposed he liked her scent, though he could not pinpoint what it reminded him of and it stirred some sort of recognition within him. If only he could remember…

Then his leg started throbbing and he wished with even more vigor that he could remember what the hell had happened to him. Kagome had said that he had possibly broken his leg during the battle in which he had lost his memory. He then realized that perhaps snatching that book so abruptly from the girl was a bad idea. He still walked with difficulty and his many lacerations still reopened with ease. He hated these feelings of inadequacy and dependency. He felt weak and useless and the mere thought that that slip of girl with endless oddities had to nurse him back to health made him want to vomit. And he didn't like vomiting—that much he knew because he had purged his entire stomach shortly after he had fully awoken. Why did he feel so horrible about being injured? Why did he feel so…_inferior_? Perhaps that was another part of his personality that he did not quite understand yet because he had no recollection of what had made him feel such things.

That was another thing that irritated him about the girl. She always skirted the issue of his past. He had asked her on multiple occasions about himself and she provided him with less than sufficient answers. He had asked her where he was from and she said Japan. Oh by the gods he could have strangled her! Then he asked where he currently resided—all the while praying for her own livelihood that she didn't say Japan—and she said that she wasn't sure and that he was 'known for wandering.' What the hell did that mean? Then he asked her about his parents. She said she knew nothing of his mother, but that his father was a powerful inu-youkai and that he was long dead. Well, that was a start. She could tell him nothing else of his lineage, but she did know an awful lot about his half-brother.

Basically, the girl appeared to possess no intimate knowledge of him whatsoever, making him wonder why she had helped him at all. They couldn't have possibly been friends or even close for that matter. Had they been wouldn't she have known his place of residence? Then he asked if he had any friends that she could find to tell him more since she seemed to know so little about him. She stuttered for a moment, unable to provide an immediate answer. Then she simply said she didn't know where to find them and it would be useless to search for them since he couldn't 'sniff' them out. So she said that they should just hold tight and wait for them to arrive, which she felt certain they would—_eventually_.

She did not lie to him, he felt sure of it, but she was not being completely candid with him either. She was hiding something, but at the same time it didn't seem like she was doing it out of malice or fear for herself, but rather out of fear for him. It almost felt like she was protecting him, but from what—the truth? Did she honestly think she could shelter him from himself and his own past?

She had to be hiding something—she _had_ to be. Why else would he remember those damn blue eyes of hers and nothing else? He had to of known her…

But at least he could say that spending time with her had not been a complete waste. Though the girl offered little insight into his past, she did present pieces of his personality to him unbeknownst to her. He now knew he was a rather patient man. He could sit through her lengthy talking sessions and withstand her raging and continuously altering emotional tirades. He deserved a freaking prize for that. He also came to realize that he was quite curious, for he found himself constantly watching the girl, fascinated by her foreign antics. He learned that he was a very logical and deductive man as well. He was obviously logical since he had the epitome of irrationality nursing him back to health to serve as a point of comparison. And he was highly deductive and inquisitive by nature since he was constantly analyzing various things around him that interested him—categorizing them in ways to better understand them—such as the strange girl who was currently bathing. He apparently craved knowledge and understanding.

The girl had also made him realize that he was a strong-willed man, not necessarily stubborn per se, and he definitely was not fond of losing or admitting his mistakes. This had become especially apparent during their trivial and usually short-lived disagreements. Though he _was_ wrong on occasion, she was usually the one needing correction. Like the time she yelled at him exclaiming that she was not loud. Then birds flew from the trees behind her in fright as though they were fleeing for their very lives. They must have thought a typhoon was rapidly approaching.

He was also very opposed to weakness he presumed, since the mere thought of dependency made him ill, which was quite difficult for him to handle right the moment seeing that he was injured. Too injured to even run. Too injured to leave this frail little girl's side. But if he did leave her, then where would he go?

He looked down at his leg again that was so carefully bandaged. He remembered when she changed the bandages the first time and the last time. She had been so cautious as to not cause him any discomfort. The first time she replaced them he remembered wondering why she was helping him, which he found to be an odd thought as though he did not expect for someone to aid him in any way. But then he figured they must be friends, though that thought was strange as well. It made sense though, seeing that he could only recall her eyes and nothing else. But shortly he discovered that she knew nothing relevant about him at all. Then he _really_ wondered why she was helping him. It made no sense, but she _was_ a creature of little logic.

He remembered asking her why she had helped him earlier when she changed his bandages. It still made little sense, for her motivations were lacking, or perhaps she still had not told him all the things that had prompted her to heal him. But her answer had disturbed him in the most surreal way. If only he could remember something, _anything_, that would help explain why her answer made him feel so terrible.

_xxx_

"Why?"

"Why what?" she asked, not even looking away from her monotonous duty. She tore the clear, adhesive bandage from one of the larger wounds on his leg and he responded to the action with a disgruntled hiss. She had called those particular bandages 'butterfly stitches,' though they looked nothing like a stitch or a butterfly to him. Wasn't cloth stitched together? This looked nothing at all like course thread sown by needle. She had simply stated that she didn't have the stomach to weave metal and thread through his skin like it was fabric. He supposed that was best because she probably wouldn't have done it right anyhow.

But had she just sucked it up and sown those nasty lacerations closed then they wouldn't reopen so damn often. But she didn't have to stitch him up—she didn't _have_ to do anything.

"Why are you helping me? You say you are close to my brother and yet you help me. Did you not say he severed my arm and I was deserving?" This was a thought that had plagued his mind since she told him about how he lost his arm. He wanted to hear the words; that simple phrase that would label him the monster. But she never said it, thus leaving him to wonder.

"Well, you were. But he shouldn't have cut your arm off. It was kind of an accident."

How is such a thing an accident? "How?"

"The sword suddenly decided to work."

She squeezed his skin together tightly and placed a new 'butterfly stitch' to his wound. He never liked that constricting feeling. It sounded ridiculous, but it made him feel caged—like he was less free. But what was he to do? Absolutely nothing—she seemed to know how to heal people and he needed healing, so he was forced to simply waste more time trying to pry answers from her reluctant tongue.

"How does a sword suddenly decide to work?"

She pondered this for a moment, even pausing in her task. She rarely paused when bandaging him; the blood always made her queasy. "Because it was meant to protect mortals and he promised to protect me."

Her strange words coupled with her blatant pause gave him an eerie feeling. Why at that moment, when he was supposedly fighting his brother, did a sword flare to life in order to protect a mortal girl? She wasn't telling him everything. "That is indeed strange. If his battle was with me then why did he need to protect you?" She didn't say anything for a while and he didn't pressure her, but it did unnerve him that the girl who loved to talk so much was suddenly so speechless.

"Things happen, Sesshoumaru," she said softly as she applied some gel-like substance to another cut. "I got in the middle of a rivalry I knew nothing about. I tend to get myself in trouble."

He could definitely believe that, but he still felt as though she could be more frank with him. "Exactly how bad is this 'rivalry' you speak of?"

"Bad."

Was that all she had to say on the matter? It was so very strange…and…disturbing…

"You still haven't answered my first question."

"Which was?" The girl really could be oblivious at times.

"Why _are_ you helping me?" It really didn't make sense. By the way she spoke of his brother, though the boy seemed to annoy her quite frequently, it was obvious she cared for him. Why help his older brother who fought with him constantly? And this fighting seemed to expand far beyond simple bickering.

"Because I can."

_xxx_

She had said it so simply and with such ease that his heart sank with the most strange feeling. It made him feel outside himself—like it was something he had never done.

Then it occurred to him that perhaps he was a relentless man as well. He was curious and thus inquisitive as well as stubborn due to his immense efforts at learning and understanding all around him. He was curious about Kagome and he wanted to learn more about her so he could understand this strange girl. Why _was_ she helping him? And he felt certain he would find out because he was determined to do so. Yes, he was most definitely a relentless man. Whether that was by nature or nurture he didn't know, but he felt confident that he would figure out if Kagome was truly as selfless as she appeared. And he would learn if that selflessness was the product of nature, or if it was simple, untainted experience.

Maybe his curiosity of her was a by-product of his curiosity of himself. He wanted to know why he was so curious and relentless and inquisitive. Did experience shape him this way, or was he simply born like this? Only memories could tell him…

He heard the subtle bending and rebounding of grass and he looked to the trees where the river ran; she had finally decided to come back. That girl could spend an eternity in water he realized. Her scent drifted slowly to him in soft waves and he allowed himself the indulgence of a long inhale. He even closed his eyes as he savored this rare delicacy. She still didn't know how much he liked her scent and he wasn't sure if he'd ever tell her. Why he was thinking this was beyond even him, and so he pushed that deviant thought to the back of his mind and opened his eyes.

"I'm back!" her soprano voice rang.

Was she truly that dense? Did she think he was deaf? He could hear her walking several moments before she even said anything!

He watched with strange fascination as she combed through her wet mane. The firelight danced about her skin and reflected off her hair giving her an ethereal glow. The sight was captivating—almost trance-like. Then she stood, causing that beautiful illumination to abandon her body, and walked to her pack to put her things in their proper places. Then she walked to him and took a seat beside him; he didn't look at her. Why, he didn't know, but instead he chose to fix his eyes on the fire in front of him.

"Let me see your leg." He offered it to her without quarrel, not wishing to antagonize her right now. Oh, how he hated dependency! She inspected his legs and arm for a minute and then she spoke. "I think you can take a bath tomorrow. Your wounds have healed nicely. Just be careful and don't scrub too hard. You don't want to reopen your wounds, do you?" She took on that motherly voice again. He didn't like that tone; it felt like she was berating a child, and he was no child. She then went back to her little futon across the fire and tucked herself in for the night.

"You're going to wake me up at dawn, right?"

He nodded and closed his eyes. After a moment he opened them again and looked at the girl who was turning about trying to find the most comfortable position. She would be asleep soon, he could tell.

"Hey, Sesshoumaru," she said with eyes still closed.

"Yes."

"You _are_ going to wake me up, right?"

"Yes."

The girl really was strange.

**x x x**

He watched with mild interest as the sky brightened ever so slowly, yellow rays penetrating the dark shield of night. The birds began chirping and the insects quieted a bit and the air started to warm once more. It was technically a little after a dawn, but the girl needed her rest so he decided to allow her to sleep a little longer. He felt confident that she couldn't possibly be any more prepared for that test of hers. He stood and walked past the cooling embers and stopped in front of the girl. She was a very heavy sleeper. He was sure he would have awoken had someone approached him during his sleep, but the girl _was _nearly deaf after all.

"Kagome."

Nothing stirred.

"_Kagome_," he repeated a bit louder.

No response came forth.

"_Kagome_!" he said forcefully.

Still no answer was provided.

He then nudged her harshly with his foot. She grumbled and swatted at the invading appendage as she turned to her side, no longer facing him.

"Five more minutes," she mumbled hoarsely.

He sighed at her stubbornness. Did she not say it was dire that she woke at dawn? It was already after sunrise! He ripped the covers from her, eliciting a squeal, and picked her up roughly, resulting in a bit more coherence.

"Sesshoumaru?"

He said nothing, but instead proceeded to walk toward the denser part of the forest just beyond their little campsite. He knew what would wake her fully.

"You can put me down, you know," she said with a long yawn. She then rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "I really need only five more minutes."

He knew what that meant and so his course of action would prove most beneficial. It was quite awkward carrying her with one arm, but she was light and therefore easy to shift in his grasp and he was able to force her to lean against his chest. Had she been any heavier he was sure he would have needed her assistance. Luckily, that was not the case.

The small river gurgled softly; so softly it was almost soothing. To most people it would have been, but for some reason Sesshoumaru felt apprehensive around water. Not that he was afraid of it or thought he'd drown, but rather something lurked in his subconscious warning him of water—telling him that there was a reason his disliked it.

No matter though, he had a sleepy girl to awaken so she could go take that important test she kept yapping about. He did say that he'd ensure she rose at the proper time and it was currently past that agreed upon time, and so he dumped her into the stream.

She screamed and scrambled up the small bank, shivering uncontrollably. The water wasn't cold and the air was warm, so her shivering did bewilder him, but she was so very warm in his arm and against his chest. Perhaps all those blankets she wrapped around her tiny form had caused this during the night, or maybe such tiny things get cold easily—both made sense to him.

"WHAT DID YOU THAT FOR!"

She really was loud. He should speak to her about that again.

"I said I would wake you at dawn. You did not cooperate, so I took care of the matter."

Her cheeks were now flushed with rage. "And THAT'S how you decide to TAKE CARE OF IT!" She was shaking her clenched fists up and down in exaggerated anger, which he found most amusing.

"I had to keep my word."

She groaned loudly and stormed off back to the camp, dripping wet. She looked particularly funny like that, which countered her enraged appearance perfectly. She looked too humorous to be taken seriously.

He followed her back and took a seat in his usual spot as she dried herself off and combed her hair. Something about that damn contraption she ran through her hair with such practiced ease simply captivated him. She then noticed his eyes on her and stopped mid-stroke.

"Umm…Sesshoumaru?"

He simply looked her in the eyes.

"Could you turn around?"

That was odd. He figured she wished to change her clothes since they were wet, but she always went behind a tree when she did that. He guessed this wasn't too odd because the girl was so body-conscious, but why not go behind a tree then? Maybe this was quicker? It really didn't matter so he simply obliged.

He could hear the soft rustle of fabric and the slight shuffle of her feet on the grass. He could even hear her hair flip over as she pulled her shirt over her head. Then he heard a barely audible clasp of metal and he wondered what it was. His curiosity was itching for him to turn around and look, but he was sure that would enrage the girl beyond anything he had witnessed thus far. Why was she so modest?

"You can turn around now."

He did so and watched her gather the necessary items for her test. Then it occurred to him that she was leaving and he hadn't asked what he was to do.

"Am I to come with you?"

She looked surprised by this and stared at him a moment before answering. "No, you can't. But I'll be back tonight. I'll bring you some better fitting clothes and some food. You need to eat more, ya know." He hated it when she berated him about food. He felt like he _could_ eat, but there was nothing especially appetizing within the vicinity. Perhaps he was a picky eater.

"Well, I wish you luck then."

She dropped her textbook and turned deliberately slowly to look at him again. Why did that comment startle her so?

"Uh…thank you." She then shook her head lightly and returned to her current task.

After a few minutes she placed another white 't-shirt' and some strange gray hakamas in front of him. Her other hand dropped a bag at his side made from an odd fabric. It was compact and he could see the outline of what was inside. He knew these items—she bathed with them.

"You can take a bath today!" she exclaimed with happiness. She really did love to bathe. "The large bottle you use in your hair. The smaller bottle you also use in your hair, but after the stuff in the larger one has been rinsed out. Don't use very much, but make sure you lather your hair up real good. The bar inside is to wash your body. And remember to thoroughly rinse the soap out of your hair and off your body. Then use that towel over there to dry off and change into these clothes. You don't want to wear icky clothes when you're nice and clean!"

She really could talk fast sometimes…

She walked back over to her pack and lifted it over her shoulder. "I left some rice cakes for you over there," she said while pointing to a small box. "In case you get hungry. Well, goodbye for now. I'll see you later, okay?"

He nodded. "Goodbye…for now."

She nodded with another look of shock and staggered off toward wherever it was she was going. It was strange, but shortly after she left a new sensation overtook his body. He continuously flexed his claws and he could not stop moving his right leg. He kept thinking of the girl. She was so very weak and so horribly deaf. What if she was attacked on her way to her test? She probably knew what she was doing, but he had been attacked not very long ago and he was much stronger than she was. She would have died from those injuries he survived.

Maybe the girl could keep a low profile, but that would do absolutely no good if a demon with hearing or a sense of smell on par with his own were to come across her. But lesser demons or even malicious humans may not detect her if she kept quiet and out of sight. That was ridiculous. Kagome couldn't even lower her voice let alone keep a low profile—especially if a spider happened upon her!

He suddenly became aware of everything around him—not even a single insect could escape his scrutiny. His mind was jumbled and his body was tense as though he was preparing for something. He really needed to relax; surely the girl would be fine. She wasn't stupid, just dense.

He then decided to take the girl's advice and bathe. Perhaps feeling clean would be refreshing as she had said and then it would be easier for him to relax. He picked up the bag and towel and walked to the nearby stream. He reached his destination quickly and proceeded to remove his clothes and bandages. He figured the water and fresh air would do them some good. Plus most of them were healed, or at least freshly scabbed over, and the girl needed to change them anyway.

He walked to the water's edge after fully relieving himself of his clothing. He noticed the trees were reflected off the pool's surface. Then something occurred to him and he wondered why it hadn't entered his mind sooner.

He didn't know what he looked like.

He slowly leaned down, all the while wondering what he could possibly look like. He didn't really have any expectations, but he was curious as to whether or not he was a nice-looking man or a hideous one. He supposed he wouldn't be too disappointed if he was average and completely unremarkable. He peered into the water.

He was surprised. He knew his hair was silver due to its immense length, but he didn't realize how nice it appeared. It was smooth and full and it basically looked good on him. He had very angular features, much different than Kagome's soft ones, and he had strange markings on his face. His eyes were narrow and slanted slightly and they were a bright golden color. He was actually very strange looking, but he at least he appeared intimidating. He was sort of pleased with his interesting appearance overall. At least he wasn't ugly, and quite honestly he had to admit that he was above average as well.

But his face was scarred. A long, thin scar traveled the length of his face at an angle and ended just below his collarbone. He wondered if this happened when he was attacked or if it had always been there. He would have to ask Kagome. If it was fresh there may be a possibility that it would heal since he was youkai. He was still a good-looking man he supposed, but the scar was quite noticeable and he felt it lessened his overall good looks.

He looked down at his wrist and realized that he had noticed those stripes before and they did in fact match the ones on his face. It was strange that he had never questioned those stripes before, but the girl had said he was youkai and therefore different from her. It must be a youkai trait. Perhaps that was why his appearance was so much more shocking and flamboyant than hers. Youkai must be strange looking creatures.

He looked into the water's surface again and was shocked at what he saw. He no longer saw himself, but a man that looked very similar to him. A silver-haired man was smirking at him. He had the same golden eyes and angular features, but his eyes were softer and more slanted at the sides. And he had a single, jagged blue stripe directly under each eye that was much thicker and more rugged than his own.

He was startled and backed away from the river. Who was that man who looked so much like he did? He approached the water apprehensively once more and peered into the stream cautiously. He was met with magenta stripes and a crescent moon—he saw himself again. How very strange; it was eerie and left him with a foreboding feeling. He didn't like this feeling.

He shook his head and slipped into the water, the bag of bathing supplies in his hand. He did exactly as the girl told him and he must admit that he did feel very clean and…refreshed. Strange, but he didn't believe that last part until now.

He went under the water one last time to make sure that that last bits of the viscous concoction were completely rinsed from his hair. It was a bit slick and much harder to remove than the first. He opened his eyes while still under water and the site he beheld made him lose his balance. The water was dark, so very dark that even _he_ could not see what was ahead of him. Was it not bright just moments ago? He felt strange and almost frightened—like he had been here before…

How was that possible? Why did it suddenly become night? He was confused and so very aware of his heartbeat. Then he heard something. It was a muffled voice and before he knew what was going on, he was lost.

_xxx_

"Sesshoumaru, where are you?" said a distant yet mocking voice. It was deep and very masculine.

He was scared and reached out his hand in the water to see how close he was to the riverbank. He needed to know how far he had to swim when he ran out of air. It would be too risky to swim a good distance, for he _could_ drown. He had to hold out, but for how long?

"Sesshoumaru!" the voice repeated with dying patience. It was impossible to decipher how far away the voice was because the water muffled the sound within his ears. But he had to go under the water—it was his only chance. He couldn't outrun him.

His legs were burning from his long sprint and now his lungs were as well. He had been in here for far too long and now his body craved oxygen. He needed to breathe.

He surfaced quietly and took short, silent breaths. Then he realized his heart was pounding, the sound reverberating through his head. He had to calm down or else he'd be caught. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. It seemed to be working. Maybe he would escape…

"Clever boy," stated a whisper right beside his ear. He froze, forgetting how to move though he willed it so. How did he not sense him so near? His heartbeat sounded off in his chest again, signaling his fear and letting his adversary know his weakness. "You masked your scent in the water, but," he began ever so slowly as he wrapped his fingers around Sesshoumaru's neck, "you were breathing too loud."

_xxx_

Sesshoumaru shot out of the water, gasping for air and clutching his pounding chest, thinking his heart would explode. His eyes were burning from the sun's light as droplets of water fell into them, making the bright world a blur.

It felt so real—like he was that boy being hunted at that very moment. But it wasn't real. It was a memory…

He then smelt something sharp and metallic, immediately realizing that he was bleeding. He looked down and saw blood gushing from that nasty gash on his right leg. He must have reopened it when he hurried out of the water. Kagome would be most displeased. He wrapped the towel around his body and returned to the campsite, taking his usual seat as he pondered this new development. He felt so different right now—so outside of himself. He finally remembered something and it was horrible. He recalled how he felt at that moment when he just a boy and he was nothing short of terrified. And it was all because he was too weak to do anything about it.

But the memory was incomplete and he wondered whom that man was he saw in the water. He suddenly wished that Kagome was here and he hoped she was all right. By the gods he felt so confused! He felt overwhelmed and too damn emotional, and who better to be around in such a mood than the queen of emotionality herself! It was strange to admit that maybe he missed her presence—just a little. But he knew what to expect from her and that was what made her so important to him in this moment—the mere fact that he remembered her.

And he supposed that was better than nothing.

**x x x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 6:**

She tapped her pencil on the tabletop, silently waiting for the bell to sound, signaling her freedom for the day. This was the last exam she had to take today, leaving only two more before the semester was finally over. Her first semester of college, well, community college, was nearing closure and she had to admit she was quite proud of herself. She was certain that she aced the three exams she had already taken today and her grades were already superb. Life certainly had changed since high school.

**Brrriiiiiiiiing!**

Students practically jumped from their seats and leapt toward the congested doorway, all fleeing with over-emphasized joy. She knew most students despised Tankada-sensei, thinking him boring and unduly difficult. However, she liked the man, opting to view him as a fountain of knowledge for her thirsty brain.

She approached him after the last of the stampeding pupils had fled. "Miss Higurashi," he said, "I assume you performed flawlessly on my test."

"I hope so," she said, nearly cringing at the uncertainty in her voice. She supposed her poor academic record in high school still hadn't completely vanished from her thoughts.

"I'm sure you did fine. You are after all one of my best students." She beamed with pride at his kind words of praise, thinking all the while that not a single teacher from her past would agree with that statement. But this wasn't high school anymore. Things were different now.

"Thank you, Tankada-sensei," she said, pausing to clear her throat. "I was wondering…do you know a lot about memories and amnesia?"

"I have devoted my life to psychology, Miss Higurashi, and I have always found memories to be one of the most fascinating studies within the discipline. What is it you'd like to know?"

"How long does it take someone to regain their memory?" That question had been nagging at her mind for some time now. She wanted to help Sesshoumaru through this ordeal, but she wasn't sure she could commit to it if it was a process that took years to reconcile. The stubborn demon hadn't even remembered one detail yet!

"Well, that depends. What kind of amnesia is it? And what provoked the symptoms?"

"Um…what do you call it…retrograde amnesia? When the patient can't remember anything that happened before the trauma?" He nodded with a small smile, obviously pleased that she remembered such a small detail from his class. "He was knocked out; hit in the head. He doesn't remember anything about his life. He didn't even remember his name."

"I'm sorry to hear that such a tragedy happened to your friend, Miss Higurashi. Complete retrograde amnesia is quite rare and it's even rarer for the patient _not_ to regain his memory."

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

"Really. But, it all depends on the level of brain damage sustained. Recollection of memories could occur within a few days to a few years. It's highly dependent on the severity of the brain lesion as well as where the lesion struck. How bad are his functioning skills?"

"Functioning skills?"

"Does he have limited motor functioning, language issues, thought process delays, and how bad is his anterograde amnesia?"

"Anterograde amnesia?"

"Yes, is he having much trouble creating new memories? Is he highly forgetful?"

She paused for a long moment as she tried to make sense out of what he had just said. Sesshoumaru didn't have motor functioning problems, at least none that were not easily attributed to his assault. Definitely no language issues and he had proven quite quick with his tongue and so she doubted he had any thought process delays. Well, he did stare at her for an eternity with a dumbfounded expression while she frantically tried to smash a creepy spider. But did he have trouble creating new memories? She briefly recalled Sesshoumaru eating her miso soup and waking her up by means of a dunk into a cold stream. He stopped insulting her cooking and he knew how to wake her up. He had remembered her idiosyncrasies. She hadn't realized this before, but Sesshoumaru paid attention to her.

"No," she said, her voice deadpanned, "he doesn't have any of those problems."

"Huh? That's odd. Anterograde amnesia is more common than retrograde, but when the latter strikes, the two always go hand in hand. Almost every amnesic patient has difficulties creating new memories and they forget new information almost immediately. Well, at least once they become distracted. It makes learning and retaining new information more difficult, and thus they have trouble holding onto a new memory. Usually their recovery period is forgotten," he said with a distant look of contemplation on his face. "But I do suppose that no science is a perfect science."

"Why is it more common?" she asked, trying to keep her attention glued to the topic at hand. That stupid taiyoukai was creeping into her thoughts again.

"It has to do with the healing process. The part of the brain that houses and processes new information is more burdensome to repair, though new technology has proven quite beneficial by surgically mending this part of the brain, but it doesn't always succeed."

"What about the part that houses the long-term memories?"

"No surgery has been able to aid that healing process. Don't worry Miss Higurashi, the body does a fine job of fixing that problem on its own. Retrograde amnesia is never permanent."

"Tell me professor, is it possible for amnesia to affect a person's personality? Like, do they wake up different than they used to be because they can't remember anything?" This was another issue she was having. Why hadn't Sesshoumaru's 'I-hate-all-humans' mentality kicked in yet? Why hadn't he tried to maim her or at least insult her for being human? Had his personality changed?

"That is perhaps one of the most common misconceptions of amnesia. The original personality remains in tact, though the patient may question the way he thinks and behaves, which usually results in confusion and frustration. It's simply the natural process of the inquisitive human mind. Just remember that dissociative disorders are completely separate from memory loss."

"Oh," she whispered, thinking back to the strange youkai that was occupying much of her time as of late. She didn't want this distraction to last for too long—she had _other_ obligations. "Is there anything I can do to help him regain his memories? You know, like take him to places that may spark a memory?"

"Most psychologists have shunned that theory, but many patients claim that it has helped them. Just remember that the mind is a highly unique and personal thing, not to mention powerful. Freud's psychoanalysis worked on some people, but not everyone. So old sites and smells may have an impact on your friend. After all, your friend sounds like quite an anomaly." He paused to look at the clock on the wall. "I have another exam to distribute in five minutes so this conversation must be delayed. You know you could always stop by the university and ask some specialists there. They would definitely have better answers for you than me. That department gets astronomical funding."

"Maybe I will. Thanks professor!"

"Anytime. And don't forget to study for the Methods of Research exam."

"I won't! Bye!" she exclaimed happily as she sprinted out of the class. Her mind was a muddled mess and it was all because of a stupid, amnesic taiyoukai that had recalled her culinary sensitivities and her stubborn sleepiness.

Why was he breaking all the rules of psychology? He obviously wasn't experiencing most of the symptoms, which she thought were more troublesome than the retrograde memory loss itself since he would automatically regain his memories with time. But he _was_ developing new memories and holding onto them. He was creating memories…of her, but how?

Then it hit her like a hard rock chucked directly at her head. How stupid could she be? Tankada-sensei had said that the short-term memory was hard for the body to repair quickly on its own. Sesshoumaru was a demon and that meant he had a 'doctor-free-pass' for the entirety of his life! Sesshoumaru was an anomaly because he had healing capabilities that were practically incomprehensible to a human. That lesion in his brain had probably already been repaired and thus it was only a matter of time before the memories started flooding him like an angry monsoon.

It was also possible that his brain was arranged differently than a human's was, which meant that his short-term memory may not have been damaged in the first place. A youkai might have totally different amnesic symptoms anyhow. She needed to stop this line of thinking. If his brain was that much different, then he might never regain his memories!

She unlocked her car, all the while considering that perhaps _this_ Sesshoumaru she was spending time with was in fact the _real_ Sesshoumaru. The professor had said that the personality remained in tact after an amnesic episode and after some thought, that made perfect sense. The personality was a powerful, practically cemented thing after all, but why were his more negative attributes—that he previously displayed without abandon—kept at bay? Instead of an angry, belligerent Sesshoumaru, she was growing accustomed to a quiet, passive demon that seemed more of an introvert, happy to drown himself in his own thoughts. She even caught him smirking on countless occasions and it wasn't that 'death' smile she had seen before that was more of an upturned lip than anything else. It was a genuine gesture of amusement—usually aimed at her, though! And he didn't talk much, though that wasn't very shocking since the only words she could remember him spouting with any clarity before were 'Die, Inuyahsa!' But when he did talk he was usually straightforward, nearly candid to a fault, and his words seemed to always take some sort of sarcastic path, which she found odd. Sarcasm could be used for cruel means, but it could also be utilized as playful banter, and she felt quite certain that Sesshoumaru used his words to get a rise out of her at times. Like when he accused her of being loud, knowing it would eventually grate on her nerves, which it did, causing her to explode and then birds scurried out of the trees, effectively proving his point. She could have strangled him for that one!

Overall, she felt oddly at peace around the calm and quiet taiyoukai. She got an amazing amount of work done around him and he understood when to leave her alone, unlike _some_ people she knew. He would never bother her when she needed to study, instead finding ways to amuse himself, all the while remaining amazingly quiet. Though staring at a fire for hours did strike her as odd, if not unhealthy—that could not have been good for his eyes. Even though he couldn't remember anything, he had a good understanding of societal norms, which she assumed was because those kinds of things were drilled into a person's head at an early age, thus becoming like second nature. He was polite, seeming to understand the rules of conversation and he had impeccable manners. She thought he ate like a dainty little princess, though she'd never voice that thought. He respected her boundaries unlike any other, except when it came to personal space, which apparently stemmed from the fact that he could recall nothing at all about sex. That was strange, but maybe it was because parents didn't tackle those social rules until a child was a bit older. The topic wasn't relevant for the first several years of a person's life after all. He definitely understood boundaries—that was for sure. When she spoke of Inuyasha she noticed the questioning look in his eyes, but he never asked. He never asked what his brother meant to her and what had happened between them. It was as though he knew it was a sensitive topic that she didn't wish to talk about. He was patient, she could tell, and he never once pressured her for anything. Her own friends wouldn't even grant her with that kind of respect!

And she slept so peacefully around him. It wasn't like he, who obviously didn't _really_ know her, offered better protection than Inuyasha, but rather it was the implications of waking up to Sesshoumaru. There would be no shard hunt to commence in the morning. He wouldn't demand ramen or quickened paces. He wouldn't incessantly ask her nonsensical things. She would rise to a collected adult who never asked anything of her except how she slept. There were never any expectations to live up to with Sesshoumaru. Granted, he had only been awake for three short days, but it was a nice reprieve from her stressful life. She found his presence soothing and quite pleasant.

And to show her appreciation for her so-called vacation from her own hellish reality, she was going to buy him a supper to die for! He seemed to despise her cooking anyhow, though after her little outburst he kept his trap shut. Some grand sushi was in order and perhaps a heavenly dessert. Yep, he couldn't deny his love for the food she was about to present to him!

She veered her little sedan to the left and turned the radio up, happily humming along with the catchy tune. She only had a few miles to go and she was perfectly content to think about nothing at all as the cheesy beat drowned out her thoughts.

**x x x**

Somehow, she managed to balance all the takeout bags in her hands as she made her way down the street. She probably looked like an idiot juggling her load, but she had no idea how much Sesshoumaru could eat—especially if he _liked_ the food! So basically, she bought entirely too much, but that didn't matter because all was bright and sunny today!

Well, that was until she found herself standing in front of a pastry shop. The store named _Satsuki's_ had inhabited this corner for years, making some of the finest desserts in Tokyo. She remembered savoring every crème puff and daifuku she had eaten from this establishment when she was but a child. At least once a week they would come here and she would indulge in some new delicacy while her parents ate an-dangos and drank some aromatic coffee.

But that had ended as do most wonderful things. They had stopped coming here after her father had died.

_xxx_

She cracked open her door and glanced down the hall. She could hear them downstairs, laughing away as they always did. She crawled out of her room and made her way to the open staircase, sneaking a peek over the white wood.

Her father was embracing her mother, telling her repeatedly that she was even lovelier than the first day he had laid eyes on her. He then twirled her around in a mock dance, lavishing the mother of his children with even more appraising words.

"And tomorrow, my beauty, I will buy you the biggest, most delicious an-dango offered at Satsuki's!"

"Oh, no! I still haven't dropped those extra pounds that Souta blessed me with!" she said, laughing all the while. Her father always put the biggest smiles on her mother's face.

"And what's wrong with that? I think the weight makes you look even more like a goddess!"

"Nonsense," her mother replied, trying to dim the bright smile on her lips, but to no avail.

"All right, then think of them as your battle scars—the hard-earned physical display of what you have given the world! Namely, my children." He said with a smirk as he dipped her low and swung her body back up to his as they semi-danced to their inaudible tune. "It doesn't matter. We're _going_ to get some sweets tomorrow and that's final. It's our tradition and I wouldn't want to disappoint my favorite daughter, now would I?"

Kagome giggled at that. She felt so special when her father said things like that about her. His head shot up the staircase and she fell flat on the floor, hoping he didn't spot her, but she knew better.

She heard him sniff the air with exaggerated snorts. "Do you smell that?" She heard her mother's muffled giggles. "I…I smell…a child! I thought I had exterminated them all! But one has managed to slip past my grasp," he said lowly as he crept up the stairs with overly heavy footsteps. "There you are, sneaky vermin! I shall rid you from this planet for your deceit!" He then lunged for her with a playful grin. She scurried away, but a seven-year-old was no match for a grown man.

He picked her up and hugged her tightly, all the while wearing the most brilliant smile upon his lips. His smiles were more than just smiles—they lit up his entire face and could be spotted in his eyes. His smiles were an experience she'd never forget.

"I could just _squeeze_ you to death!" he said in between laughs. "And what are you doing out of bed, butterfly?"

"You never tucked me in!"

He smiled as he laid her on the pink bed. "You're right. I didn't." He motioned with his hands for her to get under the covers and he wrapped the blanket around her tightly. "How's that, my butterfly?" It was their bedtime ritual. He would tuck her in her comforter so tight she looked like a larva inside a cocoon ready to burst out.

She giggled. "It's great!" She then noticed he still had his shoes on. "Are you going somewhere, daddy?"

"Yep. I have to go get some special formula for your brother. You know how that other stuff makes him sick, right?" She nodded enthusiastically; happy she was so observant. "Well, the doctor figured out why and we're going to fix it. But you, butterfly, need to go to sleep."

"We're going to go to Satsuki's tomorrow, right daddy?"

"You bet. But if you're still awake when I get back then the deal's off!" he exclaimed with his nose in the air and hands extended out. She laughed at the gesture and he leaned over and kissed both her cheeks and then planted a final kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, butterfly."

"Goodnight, daddy."

He switched off the lights and left the room, closing the door behind him. She fell asleep and awoke a few hours later when the doorbell rang. She rubbed her eyes, feeling sick to her stomach for some reason. She had a terrible dream, though she couldn't remember what it was about. She needed her mother or father to hold her and tell her everything was all right.

She walked out into the bright hallway, obviously daddy had forgotten to turn out the lights. Then she heard voices. She recognized her mother's voice immediately, but the other two were strangers. She peered down the stairs and noticed the door was open and it was raining outside. It wasn't pouring by any means, but it was a steady downfall.

Then she saw her mother fall to the floor. The men, who she now realized were police officers, reached for her mother, trying to help her stand as they offered her words of sympathy. Kagome felt hot tears stream down her face, though she wasn't certain what was going on. It just felt so awfully wrong.

"Mother!" she cried, desperately hoping for some sort of comfort. Where was daddy? She really needed daddy right now.

"KAGOME!" her mother sobbed as she stood and ran toward her with out-stretched arms.

Her mother practically collided into her and hefted her into shaky arms, nearly squeezing the hard-found air from her lungs. She responded in kind with a tight grasp around her mother's neck, wanton for something she couldn't name.

"W-where's daddy?" she choked out in between sobs.

Her mother's heart-wrenching cries escalated briefly and she slid her hand through Kagome's hair. "Gone. He's gone, Kagome."

Her heart sank like an anchor trapped in the ocean floor, never meant to resurface.

_xxx_

It happened twelve years ago. It started raining after he left the drug store and a man had fallen asleep behind the wheel. Apparently her father had tried to dodge the wayward vehicle, but the slippery roads decided his destination was to be a tree. They presumed he died instantly.

She looked up through watery eyes at the simple sign above, labeled _Satsuki's_. Oh how her father had loved their an-dangos. She wondered if they still tasted the same. A few people watched with morbid curiosity as a young woman cried on a sidewalk in Tokyo as she stared at a pastry shop, several white bags hanging limply in her hands. Then a small bell echoed through the loud street as she entered the old store, but what they didn't know was that for the first time in over a decade…she was going to buy an an-dango.

**x x x**

She managed to get out of the well with her heavy load, but then the more she thought about it the more she realized that she _always_ struggled out of that well with an ungodly sized backpack. She shrugged off the wayward thought and made her way back to the campsite that housed the demonic enigma named Sesshoumaru. When she finally caught sight of her destination, she was met with a strange yet awe-inspiring sight.

A shirtless Sesshoumaru was practically gliding through the air, unleashing his energy whip in a dazzling display that one could almost call artistic with the eye catching patterns it created. The flexible light whirled around his form only to bunch back together at his fingertips and go whizzing outward again in a circular motion that ended in a straight line, obliterating the target. She was speechless and dumbfounded as she watched the graceful killing machine work his flawless magic. That was until a tree hitting the ground woke her from her stupor.

"Sesshoumaru!" she hollered as she stomped toward him, quite awkwardly she noted, considering her jumbo-stuffed backpack. He landed silently on the ground and looked toward her, seeming disinterested. "And what exactly did that tree do to you?" she asked, hands on hips. He was making so much noise and they really didn't need to attract any unnecessary attention.

"You saw that, correct?" he asked with that amused smirk, of which she was becoming accustomed. His tone of voice was one she had never heard from him before. He almost sounded excited.

Then he broke her world apart. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought she had succumbed to a severe case of schizophrenia or that the sky had literally fallen on top of her. Either way, the world had just flipped upside down and everything seemed backward and so terribly wrong. But none of that mattered at the moment; at least she got to witness this rarity before she died…

Sesshoumaru was smiling…and it was brilliant.

He looked so warm and approachable when he smiled. His eyes were dancing with mirth and his face brightened so much she felt the urge to squint. If she thought he was beautiful before, she was simply ignorant of just how luminous this creature could be. She felt the beginnings of a furious blush, but she was too breathless to even care. Sesshoumaru was smiling at her.

"You knew I could do this all along, no?" he asked in a peculiar manner as that amazing smile began to fade from existence. She nearly cringed at the loss, hoping against all odds that she would be deserving enough to witness that sight once more before her time was up. "And _you_ neglected to tell me of this power at the disposal of my very fingertips."

His words coupled with his tone of voice began to sink into her cloudy mind and finally it clicked that he was not pleased by this fact.

"Oops?"

He eyed her a moment longer, then he stepped back ever so quickly and released his energy whip straight into the air and she could faintly hear it connect with something. Slowly she looked up only to meet the head of a crow.

"Uggggg!" she screamed as the head slid off her face. She wiped at her face hysterically, trying her best to remove any remnants of blood. Then she heard a stifled chuckle that sounded more like a snort. Her eyes darted to the despicable demon responsible for this ghastly incident. "You find this funny? I'm covered in bird guts!"

He laughed a bit harder, and though she _was_ taken aback by his short laughter, she refused to let that sound, which she had in fact never heard before, disrupt her seething anger. How _dare_ he! That was a nasty trick to pull and all because she didn't tell him right away that he was equipped with all the right tools to take out an army single-handily!

"Stupid girl," he said plainly as his amusement subsided. "Take a look at the bird that supposedly covered you with its guts."

She looked down and nearly gasped at what she saw. There was no blood, no guts…nothing. His energy whip had completely severed the bird. The skin had been burnt and all fluids sealed. He just did it to make her mad and it was working!

"You could have _SAID SOMETHING_!"

That damnable smirk appeared again. "Precisely."

Why that damn dog! Trying to teach her a lesson because he was sour that she forgot to mention his powers that were not relevant until now! He could be so infuriating! What if that bird gave her lice? Then she would have a warrant for his death that was for sure. And to think she brought him dinner! Maybe she would eat it without him. Oh well, he probably wouldn't care either way.

She sat down near the fire-less pit and unpacked her bursting backpack. He sat down casually across from her, but she could feel his eyes on her. Something about his antics made her suspect that he was very curious.

She removed the take out bags and placed them neatly in front of her, setting down two pairs of chopsticks next to the boxes. "I have dinner!" she exclaimed happily. With no response forthcoming, she spared him a glance and he looked as bored as ever, though his eyes remained on her. "Well, if you don't want any then that's fine with me." Normally she pressured him to eat, but this time she'd play it differently. She gingerly opened the boxes knowing full well that the enticing aromas would hit his nose in no time. She began plopping the food greedily into her mouth and she stopped briefly during her chewing frenzy to sneak a peek at him. It was subtle, but she caught him. His nose was flaring in and out in a nearly unnoticeable manner. He was in fact curious as to what she brought, but he was too proud to show it. Well, he got in a 'lesson' today and so would she!

"Are _you sure_ you don't want any? It's _so_ good," she said in between bites. He continued to stare at her while she ate. She wanted to teach him a lesson so badly about his stubborn sense of pride, but her more compassionate side kicked in. She ate her fill and set up a plate for him, leaving it near the fire pit. She stood with a stretch and rubbed her full belly as she gathered her bathing necessities. She would let him win this one. She was getting too tired to care anyway and his unrelenting patience might outlast her will to prove a minute point.

"I'm going to take a bath."

He nodded, his eyes remaining glued to the spot she had just abandoned.

**x x x**

He stared up at the twinkling stars from his position on the ground. He was lying on his back, surrounded by blankets, which he really didn't need, but it did make the ground a more pleasant makeshift bed. He sighed heavily as the insects around him continued to abuse his poor ears with their mundane and irritating songs. Why those useless things were given the ability to create such sickening sounds was beyond him. It must have been a flaw on the gods' part. _He_ would have made no such error.

Ever since he awoke from his state of unconsciousness, rest had eluded him. It was the noise. There were sounds everywhere, all ringing in his ears and refusing to let his mind rest for a single moment. It was frustrating. How had he dealt with this in the past? Everything was so loud! Was one night's sleep too much to ask? Obviously he could do quite well without a blink of rest, but his body was still healing; he could literally feel its reparation work.

And that was another matter. Something was going on with his body and he felt certain it had nothing to do with healing. Something from within was stirring and beckoning him. It felt primitive and powerful, like a part of him was disjointed. Was there a trick to calming this beastly sensation? Again, he was clueless and he despised being so ignorant of his own body. He didn't even know he possessed such powerful weapons within his own hand until earlier today. The feral tingling within his blood was becoming too much and so he felt the desire to hit something—a tree to be precise. Before his fist could make contact, a light appeared and the tree snapped in half. After that initial stage it all came back to him and he could use his abilities with ease and precision, as though he had never forgotten that they were there. He was particularly fond of the poison he could exude. It was deathly to every sense, whether sight or smell—it reeked of death. Why was that prospect so comforting to him? Again, another mystery his ignorance would not permit him to solve.

And that brought him back to thoughts of the girl, who conveniently forgot to tell him about his capabilities when he specifically asked her on previous occasions what she knew about him. He could tell instantly that she had prior knowledge of his powers when she stormed over to him to yell about his destructive behavior. She was apparently not surprised. He shouldn't have played that little joke on her. It was a bit cruel, but she needed to learn not to keep important bits of information from him. He didn't inflict any _real_ damage and she got over it quite quickly. It seemed that no matter how hot her anger burned, it always simmered down to a bearable degree.

Then she reverted back to her thoughtful behavior and left a plate of food for him, which he _did_ eat, though with some reluctance. He had to admit that it was somewhat pleasurable to consume. Especially that sweet thing with the rice in it; he could have eaten another one. Maybe that girl was in fact rubbing off on him. That sweet ball could not have possibly been suitable nourishment, but he ate it nonetheless for the simple fact that it tasted delightful. Did he think of it as delightful? No, it was simply more enjoyable than the rest of it.

He had to admit that she was a truly forgiving and thoughtful creature. She gave him some blankets earlier and quickly succumbed to slumber. With that thought, he shoved the blankets against his ears, which were no longer so trivial since they muffled the night's eternal racket somewhat. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He could smell her from here. Her scent was calming, in an odd sort of way.

Maybe he could get a moment's rest after all.

"_I'm sorry I missed your birthday, Sesshoumaru. I'll make it up to you."_

"_You said that last year."_

"_Did I? Well, I promise I'll make up last year as well. Deal?"_

_He watched the man's retreating back, silver hair swaying behind a large body in all its regal obedience. He was too accustomed to looking at the man's back, but that's how it had always been. He was always watching him leave._

"_What about the year before that? And the year before that?" he whispered to the stale air as the tall man disappeared from sight around a corner._

"_You do know why he always misses your birthday, right?"_

_He stared blankly at the auburn-haired man, not truly wanting to hear the incriminating words. But he already knew why and it was as good of a reason as any to hate someone. But the man took his silence as a negation, and thus the horrific answer was offered without opposition._

"_Because that was the day you killed your mother," the man whispered maliciously into his ear._

_It was true. He was born a murderer._

His eyes shot open and his breathing was heavy, too heavy for his liking. He must have only slept for mere minutes, or so it seemed. The memories were like rapid fragments darting through his unconscious mind. It was almost unbearable, or perhaps it was the nature of the recollections that he found so distasteful.

"Sesshoumaru?"

He turned his head to find her voice and was immediately met with her worried gaze. She placed a cool hand on his forehead and proceeded to smooth his bangs away from his face. It felt so odd to be touched, but not so bad. So he decided against removing the offending appendage.

"You had me worried sick! You were having a terrible nightmare!" she exclaimed, her hand sliding down his forehead to rest on his cheek. Why was he so aware of her hand? Was she aware of this, or was it a subconscious gesture? She had to be—she was always aware of her body.

"Don't worry yourself over my troubled sleep," he whispered as he turned his head away from her, her hand now sliding across his face and onto his shoulder. The movement felt like a feathery caress. He could still feel it.

"Have you been sleeping well, Sesshoumaru?" she asked, concern still heavily laced within her voice. He said nothing and then he felt her body lay next to his own. She wiggled around a bit and then tossed a blanket over herself. She was getting comfortable…next to him.

"When I can't sleep I look at the stars," she said softly, pointing to the glowing specks above. "No matter where you are or how crazy life gets, you always know that you're sleeping under the same, predictable sky. Kind of comforting, don't you think?"

He turned to look at her again, but as he did the air suddenly seemed cooler and the sky brighter. He noticed the dainty, little hand still reaching out toward the void above, but as his eyes traveled down the path of the tiny arm, he realized he was no longer looking at Kagome.

_xxx_

He saw a teenaged girl in a powdery blue kimono with white lilies embroidered throughout it, a pink obi tied thickly around her waist. She was lying on the bare ground, next to him.

She was pointing at the night sky. "I wish I could fly!" she exclaimed merrily with a voice so light it reminded him of tiny bells ringing.

"I could help you fly," he said, looking at the lovely girl whose smile faded a bit, though her brightness never faltered.

"But I still wouldn't be flying, now would I?"

He smirked at her as he snaked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against his body. She sighed contently, still staring at the stars above.

"I wonder what the stars look like up close," she whispered. "Don't you ever wonder what they would feel like if only you could touch them?" she said as she locked gazes with him, her big eyes sparkling under the silvery moonlight. He propped himself up on one elbow, leaning over her. She looked a bit surprised, but not objective toward his proximity. He leaned in closer, pinning her farther into the cool grass.

"I wonder…" he whispered, lingering a moment before he closed in on her, pressing his lips to hers, devouring her mouth for the first time.

Not even the stars could have felt this majestic.

_xxx_

His vision cleared to reveal a sleepy Kagome staring dazedly at the stars. She would fall asleep at any moment, he could tell these things by now. He turned his head back to the stars, clearing his mind of all thoughts, namely a pretty girl who he had once kissed, though he couldn't even remember her name.

His eyes drifted closed and he didn't even realize that the insects had stopped chirping. His mind became blank as he succumbed to sleep, his right arm somehow finding its way around an unconscious Kagome. He slept quite peacefully, with a warm body pressed against his own, light breaths emitting next to him, and a soothing scent dimming his other senses.

Sesshoumaru had never slept better.

**x x x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 7:**

_xxx_

He stood alone in a field near his father's house, but he wouldn't be left alone for long. He could smell his father's nearing scent and that of another male. The scent was vaguely familiar and its potency revealed the depth of the male's power, and it was overwhelming, much like his father's. He opened his eyes and looked to his right, the direction from where he could now hear his father's voice. His father spoke amiably to the unknown male, talking of his recent land expansions and newly developing incursions. It was all very boring really, but to Sesshoumaru, his father's words held another meaning. His father was leaving, again.

"Ah," his father spoke merrily, "Sesshoumaru, there you are!" His father always seemed so very happy to see him after searching for his whereabouts, though the elder demon knew where to find him all along—all that was required was a heavy inhalation. Was his father _truly_ delighted to see him? If that was the case, then why was he always so eager to leave?

He eyed the mysterious male standing beside his father as they approached. The man was as tall as his father and his face held an unreadable expression that could easily be misjudged for apathy, but Sesshoumaru noticed the slight incline of his brow. Was the man curious or surprised? He really couldn't decipher the man's enigmatic demeanor, but he looked intimidating standing there as silent as death.

"Sesshoumaru, this is your uncle, Kazuma."

The man nodded his head in place of a bow, openly displaying his superiority, but Sesshoumaru didn't mind; this was the first relative he had yet to meet. Sesshoumaru bowed deeply in response to his elder, quickly rising to further inspect his uncle standing before him. The man had a strange hue to his hair that flared red like fire in the sunlight. His eyes were a pale green, so pale in fact that they looked nearly yellow, especially under the excessive sunlight. Kazuma's eyes contained a mere slit for a pupil, like a cat, and much like his own. In fact, Kazuma's eyes were shaped identically to his own. The man had a wide face with a squared jaw and a soft nose, but was rather good looking nonetheless. However, the thing that most caught his interest was Kazuma's markings. His cheeks were lined with a single, smooth red stripe and a blood red crescent moon hung proudly on his forehead, noticeable through his parted bangs, which fell exactly like Sesshoumaru's.

Despite the physical similarities he shared with his uncle, he still remained the spitting image of his father.

"Sesshoumaru, I must leave for a while to settle some land disputes. Kazuma will be your caretaker while I am gone."

"How long will you be gone?" he asked, trying to reign in his disappointment. It would seem he failed as his father's lips curved down into a frown, his uncle sporting a displeased expression all the while.

His father knelt before him, an egalitarian display, so that they could see eye to eye. His father's hands fell upon his shoulders, giving them a light squeeze of meaningless reassurance. "Don't worry, I won't be gone long. Perhaps four or five moon cycles at the most. It'll pass quickly, especially since Kazuma will begin your training."

"But you said we would go on my first hunt _together_," he said lowly, once again trying to maintain his composure. He wanted to be strong, like his father. Maybe if he were a better, stronger son, then his father would stay.

"We will. Kazuma is just going to begin your training, that's all," his father said with a smile. "Besides, you can't go on your first hunt until you know how to _hunt_." His father embraced him briefly and stood to his full height, motioning toward the citadel. "Let's go eat. Did you know that your uncle Kazuma named you?" his father asked, switching subjects.

Sesshoumaru shook his head, his eyes immediately traveling back to his deathly quiet relative who hadn't even spoken a word since their introduction. The strange demon didn't even spare him a glance as his father spoke. He began pondering what his uncle's voice would sound like, wondering if it'd be deep like his father's, or biting like a chilled wind.

"Well, he did. I thought it was best that someone from your mother's side had the honor of naming you. Anyhow," his father said with a slight wave of his hand, "he can teach you many things, so pay close attention and be respectful. Your energy whip comes from his side of the family after all."

He turned awed and hopeful eyes on his uncle. His energy whip was a difficult weapon to use and he hadn't learned to control it yet, which had caused many problems, most of which were self-inflicted injuries. Perhaps his uncle could make him stronger, then his father would be pleased and maybe he'd stay home more often. Pale eyes found his at that point and the red inu-youkai gifted him with a small smile.

Perhaps things could change after all.

_xxx_

The wind died and Sesshoumaru blinked, clearing the remnants of the past from his sight. How had he gotten here again? Oh yes, someone was near, watching him.

He had awoken just as the sun rose and found himself in a highly uncomfortable situation. He was lying next to the girl, Kagome, and his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. How he had managed to get himself like that he didn't know, but the girl had made herself rather comfortable in his semi-embrace. Her body was turned toward him, her hand resting on his chest as she cradled her face in between the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It was distasteful to say the least, but fortunately he rose before her and she hadn't stirred as he pried her off his body and repositioned her as she slept.

But why was the whole ordeal so disgraceful to him? One thought came to his mind at that point, a single statement that was more like a declaration than an observation—_she was human_. He continued to ponder it for a while, coming up with blanks as he tried to recall something, anything that would shed light on this new-found knowledge. It would seem he was not very fond of her species.

Then he felt something, a tingling at the base of his skull and he immediately recognized it for what it was—a primal warning. Someone was watching him. So he walked into the dense forest, where logic told him the intruder was hiding, and soon found himself in a small clearing, the wind blowing a familiar scent to him, one he knew, but couldn't name. Then an image flooded his mind and he was but a child again, hoping against all odds to win his father's adoration through an uncle he had just met. Silly was what it was, for it was impossible to wish for something from someone he didn't even know. Life did change when his uncle became his caretaker, but not like he had anticipated. And his father had left, only to return after nearly twenty moon cycles, but he had been right about one thing—of that he was certain as a fragmented memory came to him then—his uncle did offer him the key to power, but it was more than that. His uncle gave him a taste for it.

_xxx_

"I don't understand," he said softly, his own voice sounding awkward to his ears. It was changing, yes, but it was more than the deepening of tone that accompanied age— it was growing cold.

"What do you not understand? You wish to become as powerful as you can, correct?"

"But," he stumbled as he gazed at the weary female hanging limply, chained from the ceiling, "she is my nurse." He looked to his uncle through the darkness, hoping that Kazuma would change his mind, but deep within he heard the whisper of certainty confirm his doubts. He would lose this battle and all he could do was move forward.

"Her crimes are unacceptable and _you_ must be the one to punish her," Kazuma stated with finality, his eyes bright green in the darkness, like lush vegetation.

"I do not see them as _crimes_." His eyes traveled back to the imprisoned youkai, her blood permeating the air, though her wrists only bled sparingly. The metallic scent hung in the air like a thick mist, making his eyes water and his throat tighten in the presence of such undesirable conditions. She was always so kind to him and he didn't want to hurt her, and _he shouldn't have_ to punish he, not when Kazuma was the one she offended. He closed his eyes hoping the sight would disappear with his vision, but the coppery musk still clung to the damp air like a rotting corpse, confirming that his hopes were nothing more than pipe dreams, decaying with the cadaver's flesh.

"She weakens you. You will never be a great and powerful demon if you allow people to soften you as such. You must keep your distance from people like _her_."

"But she was never warned that her treatment of me was improper," he argued hopelessly. This was a test; an initiation into the realm of rulers. But she had done nothing wrong, except rebuked his uncle's ways, thus hoping to shape him from a different mold. Kazuma had none of that, which he referred to as treason, though Sesshoumaru was skeptical of that interpretation. Kazuma should have banished her, but instead he chose to make _him_ draw her blood over and over again, no matter how agonizing her screams became. It was all part of the process; a way to weed out the weaklings.

"I had warned her, and all servants know better than to rebuke their masters. It is disrespectful and deserving of death. But the truth of it all is that _you_ should have put an end to this ridiculous rebelliousness and coddling long ago. So now you must rectify your mistakes and teach her the folly of her ways."

"I-I don't think I can," he stuttered pathetically, nearly cringing at his own reaction.

"I am your caretaker, therefore you are to obey me. Did you not desire my help and knowledge? And when you have fought against my words, have I not been proven right? You stand to be corrected, boy. Make haste and get it over with. It is the only way to deal with these kinds of matters. One day you will rule your father's lands. Will you be capable of such responsibility if your heart bleeds for every individual that grants you a kind word? I think not." Kazuma then extended a knotted leather whip to him, the tendrils dripping with water.

He stared at the torture device for a moment, wondering what other implications lay hidden within that morbid object. What would happen if he were to reach out and accept it?

"You do realize that this weapon belongs to your father, don't you? This dungeon is his and it is stained black with old and new blood. And most of those whose blood stains these stones never walked away from this place."

His breathing quickened and his heart raced within his chest. His palms were even sweating, which never happened, and soon he became aware of the beaded drops rolling down his temple. He was nervous and scared, but why? He knew what his kind thought of such emotions and the mere thought of his father learning of his weakness made bile rise in the back of his throat. He was afraid to accept his lot in life—the path that would make his father proud and ensure his effectiveness as a ruler. He was becoming pathetic.

Kazuma took one step toward him, extending the weapon even further, his brow creased with determination. "It is a part of you—the call for blood. And if you refuse it, you will reject your destiny and purpose in life. And then what would you be? You would never inherit your father's lands and he would turn his back on you, ashamed that his only son lacked the courage and strength to do what was necessary. Doing what is necessary is not always easy or enjoyable for that matter, but it _must_ be done—it is the only way to solidify your position of authority. Power is a _necessity_ for one in your position. I offer it to you. All you have to do is reach out and take it," Kazuma nearly whispered, stressing each syllable with the thundering force of a war drum.

The fear, the uncertainty, the wonder, the shame—all culminated within his heart until it hardened rapidly with catalyzed deference and want. He could only query what would come of this. Would this stony feeling in his chest subside when this whole ordeal had past? Or would it linger? There was only one way to find out…

He took the whip.

_xxx_

Was that why humans were near reproachable to him—because they were weak while he favored power? He knew it, from the very fiber of his being that he desired strength. He could feel it beckoning him with a pull greater than the ocean's strongest current. He craved power, even sought after it with a feverish drive. He could not, as of yet, recall any such instances, but he just knew, evidenced by one fragmented memory. At a very young age he decided that the accumulation of power should be his top priority to win the affections of an absentee father that didn't spare him the time of day.

Power was such an intangible concept, for it varies in infinite magnitudes and remains invisible to the eye, but power, much like any emotion, was felt and seen through the actions of others. Why was it that he tried to distance himself from emotions, but yet he could feel the desire for power coursing through his veins? Was _want_ not an emotion—a feeling defined by the greatest of pulls, making man and demon alike bend to its unmerciful will? Two recollections of the past had come to him so suddenly, reminding him of why this impalpable drive for something he had already possessed became an obsession, drowning out all other components of his life and suffocating his very essence, only leaving behind a crystallized will. He couldn't help but wonder what other memories would bring to him.

Power was his goal, driven by a will that was born out of hope. A simple hope really, one that no child should feel, and yet being a child himself, Sesshoumaru failed to realize this one truth. A child should never have to earn his father's love and adoration. A child should not aim to grasp and sustain his father's attention and respect. Sesshoumaru didn't know this at the time, and so the insatiable hunger for power was firmly burned into his mind and heart, a simple solution to supplant the longing for a father.

But how did this drive become so central to him that it was tenaciously engrained within his mind? Again, only memories could tell him, but he did know that power was important to him and had caused his life to ferment in ways he could not have possibly predicted. He had paid the price with resentment and hurt…and his arm.

The truth of the matter was that he was justifying his own behavior based upon a few broken memories. Yes, it was understandable and ultimately tragic that he craved power to ensure his father's love, but the truth was that he had made a conscious decision that finalized his descent from grace. He did not have to take that whip. Perhaps there was more to the story than he could recall, but right now he had to deal with the fact that he remembered disregarding what was right in favor of what he viewed as necessity—increased power.

He hoped there was more to the story than an enraged drive to accumulate more strength, which happened to be of mind, not body, in that instance—the ability to crush those you care for if they meddle negatively in your affairs. Decisions are, after all, based upon many factors, but still, that one particular memory bothered him more than the others. He had chosen to physically harm a female, for a ridiculous reason nonetheless, because he believed it would aid his ultimate conquest in life. Something told him that his father would not have been proud of that particular moment in his life.

If only he could remember more.

**x x x**

She pushed her book away with a huff, not able to study no matter how hard she tried. It was strange since she had been able to study so diligently while being around Sesshoumaru, but that was the problem right now. Sesshoumaru was acting really weird. Not that he normally _didn't _act weird, but something was off about him, like the weight of the world had just fallen upon his shoulders.

She had woken mid-morning and Sesshoumaru was no where in sight and she felt sort of troubled by that fact since she had obviously fallen asleep next to him last night. She hoped he wasn't mad about that. Maybe he had moved anyhow, but she really didn't care either way because she had slept so peacefully. She had immediately eaten some breakfast after wondering for only a moment or so where Sesshoumaru had gone off to, silently hoping he hadn't reopened his wounds, _again_. Then she had started studying with a renewed vigor and after a short while he had walked back into camp from the forest, bringing with him a darkened countenance. It was almost disturbing, but this _was_ Sesshoumaru and there was no telling what was going on in that wacky brain of his.

Now, it was near sundown and he just continued to stare at the charred wood in front of him as though he wished it were alive with flames, but too disappointed in its lifeless state to do anything about it. It all just seemed so wrong, like he was depressed or something. Maybe he was just thinking, which he obviously liked to do since he spent so much time perfecting those particularly quiet skills. There was no fathoming what he was mulling over, but she did wish he would confide in her—at least once.

Then he asked her a question that tripped up her sense of a world that was relatively predictable. How did he always manage to do that to her?

"Who reared you?" he asked softly, not looking from the black and gray ashes that remained as still as death in the fire pit.

What a strange question for him to ask her! She never would've imagined that he'd be interested to know anything about _her_ life!

"Um…my mother. And my grandfather too, but he's a little quirky and absent-minded, so I'd say my mom's the one that really raised me," she said with a smile as she thought about her odd yet loving family.

"What of your father?"

She almost believed she could taste that an-dango on her tongue that she had eaten yesterday. She had cried like a sappy little kid in the middle of a busy sector in Tokyo, not caring one bit what all the staring people thought of her. She would wager that most probably thought she had lost a lover to another woman as she looked at the sweet shop they used to frequent. No, she had cried differently on _that _account. She had cried alone in the woods and at other times in her mother's embrace or on the childish pink comforter in her room that she had refused to replace. Her father had bought it for her after all.

"He was a wonderful man. He was gifted, too," she said not seeming to notice that golden eyes fell upon her as she looked to the swaying grass that always bent, but never broke, under the wind's pressure. "He knew how to make someone feel loved."

"When did he pass?"

She looked up and met Sesshoumaru's curious gaze, not surprised by his intuition/ "Twelve years ago. I was seven." It was so strange, but her eyes didn't even water at the mere thought of her father. She could feel the bright grin burning on her face, but she didn't care. She would no longer scorn his memory with sadness; he wouldn't have wanted it that way. She would bless his memory with love and happiness from now on, only smiling and laughing when she thought of him. He deserved that much—it would be her way of showing her love for him.

"Your mother, she is a kind woman?"

"The best," she said merrily. "She's so loving and supportive. I guess I'm really lucky."

"Yes. You are fortunate."

She gaped at him as his eyes turned back toward the ground, penetrating the very dirt with his piercing stare. Something was definitely wrong with him and her mouth fell open as something occurred to her. He must have remembered something. Why else would he ask her those things and seem so sad? He even admitted in an eerie tone that she was indeed fortunate. The tone was ghost-like, as though haunted by things that would forever linger in this life, but could never be rectified because that present had died and now treaded in the realm of the past.

Kind of like Inuyasha's voice when he spoke Kikyou's name.

_xxx_

"You don't even care that she tried to kill me!"

She was mad and maybe a bit harsh, but damn it, this was ridiculous! She had mentioned earlier that day that she was sorry she had lost the jewel shards to Kikyou, but Inuyasha had merely said not to worry about it. It may have seemed so kind and understanding of him, but he nearly busted an aneurysm on other occasions when she had lost precious jewel shards. It was okay only because Kikyou did it. That was fine, she supposed, since he _did_ love her 'incarnation', but why hadn't he said anything about her near death experience with that walking corpse!

She really shouldn't think so maliciously about the undead miko, but she was a big enough person to admit she was jealous, and the anger was only heightened by the fact she was losing the battle for Inuyasha's heart to a dead woman. She really was fated to never have him.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked angrily. "That I should go rip her heart out because she tired to kill you? Look, I'm sorry that happened Kagome, but I'm at a loss for words here. I know I should have been more pissed at her, but…but I just can't," he nearly whispered. "Kikyou…didn't really mean it. She's just angry right now because she hasn't accepted the truth yet. She still doesn't believe that Naraku tricked us."

She could hear in his voice that he was upset and distraught beyond reconciliation. The ghost of what Kikyou used to be was haunting his heart and he couldn't find the strength to forget. But that _was_ asking a lot. How do you forget such things, especially when a walking reminder of that ghostly relationship still treaded among the living? It was hard to condemn it to the past with other things better left forgotten when a physical replica of Kikyou crossed their path with relative frequency. Inuyasha couldn't manage to separate past from present and it _really_ pissed her off. She didn't want to see the logic in it; it hurt too much to know that he favored the past that should have died with Kikyou.

She laughed maliciously for a moment, trying to drown out the voice of reason in her head. "Rip out her heart? That doesn't make sense seeing that she doesn't even have one!"

Inuyasha looked at her in shock; even she couldn't ignore the surprise ringing in her head after those nasty words left her mouth. The regret of her malice stung her eyes and she turned quickly and ran back to camp, not wanting him to see her tears, though he could probably already smell them. She shouldn't have said that, but there was no fixing it now, for those present words had just died with the moment to become a part of her past.

He didn't deserve it, but she was so angry. Didn't he understand her rage? Was it really _rage_, though? She was no longer sure; it felt more like sadness that weighed so heavy in her gut. She was sad that she had said those hurtful things, but she was even more saddened that his dead lover still held his heart.

She ran with all the speed she could muster, hoping to get as far away from her regret as possible. The regret that currently rested with Inuyasha back in the forest. She burst into the campsite and was immediately caught by Sango's arms.

"Kagome? Are you okay?"

The tears flooded over the dam of her lashes, consuming and unforgiving. Sango brushed the loose hair from her face and sat her down on the grass, running careful fingers over her scalp as she continued to cry.

"What happened?" After several moments of calming her frazzled nerves, the tears finally slowed and the hiccups ceased quaking through her ribs.

"I said something awful to Inuyasha. It was about Kikyou," she said shamefully, tearing her eyes away from Sango. Sango was quiet for a while and it seemed like forever to Kagome, though the more she thought about it the more she realized that she had no true concept of eternity whatsoever.

"It was about this, wasn't it?" Sango asked as her forefinger carefully slid along the bandage on Kagome's cheek. Kagome said nothing, too ashamed to verify the truth, even to Sango. "What she did was wrong and perhaps Inuyasha should have done something about it, but please try and understand him. He knows she doesn't belong here, among the living, but the memories keep his claws from finding her flesh."

The tears returned and Sango embraced her tightly, holding her for a long time as she cried. She cried for her regrets, her lost love, for Inuyasha, and she even cried for Kikyou.

"Forgive him. He knows nothing else."

She let Sango's voice coax her to rest as the crickets hummed their nightly ritual. That night, she fell asleep in the arms of one who loved her dearly.

_xxx_

She remembered thinking that Sango was right; it _was _too hard for Inuyasha at that time and she recalled falling asleep believing that one day Inuyasha would realize that Kikyou was the past and that was where she belonged. It was not until now that she truly understood the depth of Sango's seemingly simple words. Inuyasha would never realize and she must simply accept that because he knows nothing else.

Inuyasha should have killed Kikyou by now, thus respecting her memory and putting that vile shell out of its misery, but that same memory would zap his resolve every time he attempted to end her decrepit existence. Kikyou had no desire to live, but Inuyasha wouldn't be the one to solve that problem, and so she continued to aimlessly wander because Inuyasha's memories were too vivid and his heart too soft.

She finally made a connection that somehow passed her scrutiny until this moment—Inuyasha and Sango shared the same horrific problem—Sango should have killed Kohaku. He was a mere shell of a being, minion of Naraku and bearer of evil deeds, but Sango's memory of her brother would not allow the blade to find his throat. It would never be made and that was okay, because doing what was necessary was not always right, for in so doing they would've in essence killed a part of themselves.

Fate bestowed upon them the cruelest of ironies. It seemed that some things were never meant to be finalized.

**x x x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 8:**

"_Swimming_?"

"Yeah!" she beamed in a display of excessive energy. "You know, treading through water for fun!" She made strange arm motions then. Were those movements supposed to give him a conception of what she was talking about, because she was failing miserably—he remained quite clueless.

"Fun? You tread water for _fun_?" She nodded enthusiastically, a ridiculous grin plastered to her face as though it was nailed there. "I was under the impression you needed to study. I would hate for you to digress or else I'll have to endure another one of your panic episodes."

Her smile finally faltered and her cheeks lit afire. She really was so very predictable.

"Hey now! I've been studying hard and I need a break! And I want to go swimming!" she said in a pouting manner with her fists clenched at her sides as she stomped her foot in the most child-like manner. Sometimes she really did seem more like a girl than a woman, which made him uncertain as to how he should act toward her. Unfortunately she was at that stage in life where she was caught in between.

"I have no desire to partake in this _swimming_. And if a reprieve is what you need, then by all means take it," he said as politely as possible, knowing this would heighten her annoyance. Now that he thought about it, her childish antics did have a strange effect on him. She made him act immaturely in reaction to her little outbursts. Was this normal behavior for him, or was she just capable of lowering his standards of proper conduct? Either way, it still remained to be discovered why he enjoyed irritating her so.

"B-but," she stuttered with an interesting o-shape molding her lips, "I can't swim alone! It's more fun with two people!"

He sighed to himself when suddenly she leapt for that oversized bag of hers that held entirely too many objects, pulling out something shockingly red that appeared to be made of cloth. She then marched back toward him and stopped mere inches from his person and shoved the article in his face. The rude display really caught him off-guard. Firstly, he was shocked that she would voluntarily intrude upon his 'personal bubble', as she had called it, since she was so adamant about him respecting her bubble's boundary, which she set at a three-foot perimeter. Secondly, he would be damned if he wore that red cloth! It was obscene, it was inappropriate, it was…it was downright scandalous!

"Put it on! NOW!" she yelled, pointing to the tree line. She really needed to watch her volume.

"What exactly I am supposed to do with this? Wear it on my head?"

"NO! It's your bathing suit! I picked out a pretty one for you!" she said with a mischievous smile.

"_Bathing suit_?" he whispered as he inspected the cloth. "I was under the impression that people bathed alone. And what do you mean by _pretty_? It is simply red fabric, nothing more."

She huffed in response to his stubbornness. Perhaps he would win this battle if she was already sighing in defeat. "That's just what it's called, but it's meant for _swimming_. And bathing is supposed to be done in your birthday suit, not your bathing suit," she said plainly, as though that information was common knowledge. Perhaps it was…

"What's a _birthday suit_?"

He never thought she could turn so red. Then the connotation clicked and he smirked in response. It was a rather funny phrase.

"OH NEVERMIND! JUST PUT IT ON!"

She was angry now. He didn't really like to enrage her; he simply liked to frustrate her. So maybe he should forfeit this battle for her sake and swim. Whatever that was…

He held the 'bathing suit' against his legs to see if it was a proper fit and it seemed sufficient, but there was a strange white material on the inner part of the red cloth. It oddly resembled fishing net. Should he know its purpose?

"What is the purpose of fishing net in this clothing? Am I to catch fish in my own pants?" he said with an indecipherable hint of sarcasm. He now decided that this was the reddest he had ever seen her. She was so embarrassed that she ran off, stopping briefly at her pack, and took off toward the forest with a shiny blue material in her hands. He supposed she was not going to tell him.

"JUST PUT IT ON, SESSHOUMARU!" she yelled, not looking toward him, and thankfully so given her unholy volume. "AND BE THANKFUL! I COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOU A SPEEDO!"

He gaped at her as she disappeared behind a large tree. He looked back at his red bathing suit and decided things could indeed be worse. How he wasn't sure, but whatever a 'speedo' was, it didn't sound good…

After putting on the red bathing suit, he decided it was rather uncomfortable, but hopefully he would adjust. A few moments later he felt Kagome nearing as he continued to look down at his legs. He was unaccustomed to such garments where the fabric ended just below his knees. The waistband was a bit tight and made of an odd material that stretched significantly, though he could not examine its properties since it was covered by the red fabric. The red fabric bewildered him as well since it was rather loud and he was unaware that fabric could make such noises. A cream colored material was then visible under his nose and thusly blocking his inspection of his bathing suit and its otherworldly properties.

"You'll need a towel."

He took the towel from her hands and finally looked at her, hoping her bathing suit was much different than his. It was, but it seemed even more scandalous! It was dark blue and shone like the water's surface, but it only covered her body sparingly, showing the full length of her legs and arms while exposing cleavage. Then she said something, which he did not hear, and then turned away from him, walking off in the direction of the stream. Her back was completely visible and the suit was so tight he could make out the exact shape of her derriere. It was beyond scandalous…it was…it was… He honestly couldn't figure out how to word it.

"Come on, Sesshoumaru!"

He hurried after her and his long strides brought him to her side within an instant. He wondered why she would even dare to wear such a thing. She was rather conscious of her body after all and insisted upon her privacy, telling him to turn his head when she changed for the night and such. Yet she had no qualms about prancing about in practically nothing at all in front of him? It was odd, very odd. Then again, she hadn't provided him with a shirt for quite a while, which she blamed on his wounds, so perhaps this was his payment. He stilled at that thought.

Suddenly, droplets of water hit his face and he realized he was at a standstill and the stream was directly in front of him. Kagome was splashing around in the deeper part of the water and motioning for him to join her. "Get in! It feels great!"

She then mimicked those arm movements from earlier and she glided through the water as though she was born a fish, her bathing suit shimmering in the sunlight like scales cutting through the water's surface. He watched her for a minute or so and she beckoned him once again to enter the water, but his feet were immobile, the sunlight feeling suddenly out of place.

He remembered a night long ago when he held his breath for as long as possible, so long that water went through his nose and into his lungs. It burned worse than fire and he willed his body back to the shore, barely able to keep his head above water as he moved. Then he was caught, but that wasn't the beginning. He should have seen it coming…

_xxx_

"Get up, boy."

The shade was pulled up abruptly, allowing the sunlight to filter through with ease. He blinked once, then twice, and before he could open his eyes again his blanket was ripped away from him.

"I said, _get up_." He rubbed his bleary eyes as he rolled over, barely able to make out his uncle's silhouette. "You better learn to wake faster than that. Today is the exception. Starting tomorrow, you will rise before the sun." His uncle then stalked off and paused at the doorway before leaving. "Your breakfast is ready and I suggest you do not eat more than is sufficient."

He watched as his uncle left, his eyes remaining on the screen moments after Kazuma's departure. He lifted himself out of bed, still half asleep, and changed his clothing. It seemed an eternity before he reached the dining room where some hot soup was awaiting him. Before he had his fill, his uncle appeared and commanded him to follow.

"But I'm not finished."

"You've had enough for now. You begin your training today."

"But father just left yesterday."

"Then perhaps we should have begun yesterday." Kazuma turned sharply upon exiting the doorway and Sesshoumaru hopped up from his seat and took off after him. He had hoped that he would spend the day becoming acquainted his uncle since yesterday Kazuma was absorbed in arranging his quarters. Perhaps his uncle was the quiet type like his father had said.

He followed his uncle silently into the dojo outside the fortress and next to the soldiers' residential halls. It was a cool morning, but the sun was bright, making it a rather pleasant temperature. Kazuma left the entrance of the dojo open, meaning at the very least that he wouldn't get too hot.

He immediately went to the wall that secured the weapons and picked a medium sized bokken, which he had been practicing with on his own. Perhaps he could impress his uncle.

"Put that back."

"Why? I thought I was—"

"Your father has been too loose with you. Training does not begin with weaponry. You must master the basics of physical combat before you learn the skills involved with weaponry. You are not advanced enough yet."

"So, you're going to teach me hand-to-hand combat? That'll be fun!"

"Silence! When training you will only speak with permission. Understand?" Sesshoumaru nodded in affirmation. "Good. Now, your training will begin at the most basic level, the level at which all other skills will be built upon—_conditioning_."

Kazuma then leapt to the ceiling, touched it, and propelled himself with his palm toward Sesshoumaru and landed behind him in a smooth, flawless motion. He was so fast it appeared he wasn't even moving at all, but rather transporting himself from lateral plane to lateral plane. It was impressive.

"You must be faster than your opponent. You must be stronger. You must be flexible and so agile that when combined with your immense speed your opponent will be lost as to where you are even going. Then, they won't be able to lay even a finger on you. That is the first aspect of conditioning."

That did not sound like fun. Swordplay was fun, but running with no real purpose was dull. "But my father says I'm faster than he was at my age!"

"Your father trained to get faster and so will you. My clan is gifted with unparalleled speed, but if that gift is not fine-tuned, then eventually you will come across an opponent who is faster than you simply because he developed his innate gift and you did not. Speed is one of your advantages, so utilize it. You cannot defeat an enemy you cannot touch. Remember that. Now run until I say otherwise," he said, a single claw pointing toward the open door.

With a drawn sigh, he complied and he ran and ran. He ran around the dojo, then around the soldiers' complex, then around the fortress and then around the perimeter wall. He ran and ran and ran…and ran, never once stopping and barely slowing.

And Kazuma never came.

He woke up in the middle of the night to angry voices, not yet realizing that soft cloth lay beneath his skin. His uncle was yelling at his nurse who apparently brought him back inside and to his bed upon discovering him unconscious near the artillery barracks. He passed out and his uncle left him there.

Kazuma must be so disappointed.

_xxx_

"Do I have to drag you in here?" Kagome asked as she stood in the water, hands on hips.

He snapped back to reality in that instant and with one hard look at the insufferable female, he decided to comply. Dropping his towel on the bank, he walked carefully into the water, looking straight at Kagome, and never once looking down. It could be called deference, him bowing to her current whim, but it wasn't true compliance, for she wasn't forcing him to do uncomfortable or painful things that he'd rather not do.

She just wanted to share a moment with him. He realized this now.

Then she splashed water in his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bating his time as she laughed hysterically. He went in for the kill and her mouth made that priceless 'o' again as she dove underneath the water's surface, hoping against all odds to escape him. She wouldn't—he was too fast.

**x x x**

"I can't believe you DID THAT!"

"It was not intentional," he said flatly as he dropped his sopping wet towel on the ground.

"That was my favorite bathing suit!"

She had insisted upon him carrying her through the water as fast as he could. He complied and she laughed, and he soon realized that the faster he went the more she laughed. Her laugh was so full and hearty that it was…nice. He decided he liked hearing her laugh and so he continued on, moving faster and faster until she slipped off his back with a startled scream. Apparently he was going too fast and so he reached around hastily and grabbed her by the shoulder, keeping her head above water. In so doing, his claws grazed the strap of her bathing suit, thus shredding it. The swim session was then over.

"Oh, well. I can always buy another one. Do you mind starting a fire while I change?" she asked as she pulled the ribbon loose from her hair. Black locks fell free and she shook her head, allowing droplets to fall ever so gracefully down her back and shoulder. It was captivating and most importantly, not unfamiliar…

_xxx_

The moon hung high and full in the black sky, the only thing currently working against his mission this night. He crept silently over the wall and dashed toward the dimly lit home. It was a modest home, but sufficient, and all-around much nicer than most homes in the village. Her father was a reputable merchant, selling the finest of cloths and spices to the wealthy elite. Though not technically wealthy themselves, Hitomi's family was quite comfortable and doing monetarily better than most.

There were no real guards or soldiers stationed at this residence, but the family did have a few servants that lingered about in a small structure at the rear of the home where they resided. The back of the house was the best entrance for him since he could bypass the other village homes and hence his probability of getting caught was slim. He just had to sneak past unnoticed by any servants.

He pasted his body against the thin wall of the servants' quarters and listened, only hearing the crackling of a meager fire and the slurred speech and laughs that accompanied drunkenness. He was in the clear. He ran quickly to the other side of the house, so fast that hardly a soul would've noticed the air's disruption. He stopped in front of a dimly lit window and peered inside. He immediately noticed Hitomi and so he carefully slid the window open and pulled himself through as quietly as a stalking predator.

"Sesshoumaru!"

He looked up from his kneeling position on the floor and drank in the sight for as long as she would allow. She was wet, her skin slightly flushed, and only a white cloth separating her from his eyes. Water droplets fell from her hair and splattered delicately onto her shoulder, entrancing his eyes with each tender drop that touched her skin and he silently wished he possessed such privilege.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered as she grasped the cloth tighter to her body. The water falling from her hair was soaking the front of the makeshift towel and soon it would be translucent, and for a moment, he debated telling her.

"I wanted to see you. I feel like I haven't seen you for an eternity."

"I've only been gone a week," she said nervously as his hand reached for her arm. "You shouldn't be here," she said hastily as he grasped her wrist, sliding his hand up her arm.

"How's your aunt?" he asked, distracting her as he moved his hand across her shoulder to her neck.

"She's going to die, but it's not so bad for me since I really don't know her. My uncle will be devastated though. Speaking of which, how's Uncle Kazuma?" she said with a tone of sarcasm.

"Same as usual—unsatisfied unless I pass out." His playful mood diminished as quickly as it began when his fingertips grazed those sinful water droplets, smearing the transparent liquid across the smooth skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Hunger began to overtake him, his lust intensifying with every beat of her heart. Her pulse was quickening, he could hear her jugular pulsating and the more he stroked her, the faster it pulsed. It was addictive, this feeling of want and promised satisfaction. He wanted her, there was no denying it, but she was so resistant to his advances. Perhaps he should just take her and then she would stop resisting because her body wouldn't allow her to deny him any longer.

"Sesshoumaru," she breathed, placing a warm hand on his chest.

His control snapped and he devoured her mouth, savoring her sweetness and yearning for more than her lips. He had to take her somewhere—they couldn't do this here. Her father would hear, especially since he planned on making her scream.

She pushed harshly on his chest and broke the kiss. He then noticed a thin trail of blood oozing slowly down the side of her mouth. He had been too rough and now she smelt of fear. He hated that stench. Why was she afraid—because he accidentally scraped her tongue with his fang? His saliva could fix that little cut in no time.

"You need to leave," she said sternly.

"I'm sorry, I guess I was overzealous," he replied sincerely, deepening his voice as best he could, hoping it'd dissuade her.

"No, it's just what you are," she said, turning her back, a reactionary gasp cutting the thickening air.

Bewilderment overtook him then; he thought she never minded that. He was born a demon and he couldn't help that fact anymore than he could help the fact that he wanted her. He looked down, feeling unduly shameful, fisting his hands in frustration as the question ran through his mind exhaustively. _Has she suddenly turned her back on me because I'm youkai?_

A coppery scent found his nose at that moment and he looked down, noticing blood dripping ever so slowly from his fists. His claws were shortening… His beast had revealed itself. She must have seen red eyes. Did she not know of his level of control? The beast did not rule him—he ruled it. But she didn't see that. Hopefully one day she would.

With that last thought he left soundlessly, refusing to look back when the salty cacophony of tears washed over his senses. Why was she in such turmoil? Why?

But the one thought that ruled his mind as he ran home that night, the scents of lust and fear melting into the wind, was the hope, the inner plea, that Kazuma was not right.

_xxx_

"Why don't I hear a fire crackling?" Kagome called from behind her favorite tree. He figured it must be her favorite simply due to its size; it was so large that he couldn't see around it and spot her even if he tried. He shook his head, tossing away remnants of bittersweet memories, not wishing to contemplate them right now. He had a fire to start.

**x x x**

The sun was setting and the sky was a masterpiece, splayed with fading blues and yellows. She figured the gods must be artists by nature, for only those with such an eye for beauty could create the wondrous things that replicate with each day. The sunset is reproduced every day's end and yet it's strikingly different each time, though its breathtaking beauty always remains.

She shoveled another helping of the salty noodles into her mouth, Inuyasha's face entering her mind for the first time that day. He loved ramen, though that was somewhat offensive at times, seeing as how he would prefer the instant noodles to her home cooking when the option was offered. She missed his snide remarks, as hard as that was to swallow, but she continued to wonder why he wasn't on her mind more often as of late. He always intruded upon her thoughts when she was in her own era, making life difficult to live in the place she truly belonged. But that wasn't a problem right now, which was even stranger considering a silver-haired, golden-eyed reminder was sitting across from her at that very moment. They weren't twins by any means, but you'd think the similar coloring alone would incite some reminiscing about the man who had managed to devour her life for the last four years. She wondered what Inuyasha was doing right now.

She set her styrofoam cup on the ground, her usually ceaseless appetite lost with her thoughts. Her eyes drifted to the silent demon lord, contemplating just how different he was from Inuyasha. Inuyasha had no home and no one, and thus a rough man was reared by the trials of a world that no child, especially a hanyou child, was ready to confront. Hardships made him abrupt and his audacity was necessary for him to survive in such an abusive world. A brash, strong and emotionally ill-equipped man was bred from a life of full responsibility and solitude. Inuyasha was just an unprepared boy, but that was to be expected. Then Kikyou came along, making her wonder if her incarnation had a hand in taming the wild Inuyasha. Then again, Inuyasha did remember his mother, a loving one at that. Perhaps Kikyou was just the saving grace for a man in need of saving—a man that wanted to be saved, because when his baser elements were deconstructed he was simply a good man.

Sesshoumaru, however, was a different story. It was precarious to think his childhood was similar to Inuyasha's and his regal demeanor alone hinted at his better-than-thou upbringing. He was well kept and highly mannered, his every word bequeathing education and discipline—things that taught from the earliest of ages. Such obvious knowledge left one question berating her mind like the dull thud of a continuous hammer, unrelenting till the nail was sufficiently secured. What went wrong with Sesshoumaru? Could it be that his foundation wasn't good like Inuyasha's, simply making him a bad person?

Or did someone make him bad?

"Am I that fascinating?"

"Huh?" she asked, feeling the heat spreading across her cheeks before she even registered his words. "Oh, no, I…uh…was just thinking and staring off into space, you know, the usual!" she said quickly, almost too quickly, waving her hands at him in hopes the motion would detract his eyes from her cherry-red cheeks.

He gave her that awful look again. She swore he showed more respect to the insects than he did to her. Did he respect insects? Well, he was pretty lenient toward that spider from hell! Then again, Sesshoumaru didn't really seem to respect much of anything or anyone, nor did he seem to disrespect much of anything either—except for Inuyasha.

She was beginning to think that rage and jealousy weren't Sesshouamru's central characteristics as she had once thought after many battles over an heirloom—an heirloom left to a half breed at that. No, it was becoming clear to her now, after these past few days, that Sesshoumaru's most dominant trait, or state of being if you will, was indifference.

"Sesshoumaru?" She awaited his acknowledgement, gulping down her fear, which was surprisingly easier to do than she had anticipated. Gold flashed her way and she spoke, caring not if the cold shoulder was to be his response. "Are you remembering anything? Like your father—you asked me about my upbringing and it seemed like—like you were thinking of your own father." It was done. She had just asked Sesshoumaru a highly personal question. Now, what would he say? Probably nothing…

"Yes."

She blinked, then again, her mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. She must look like an idiot, but that didn't matter, not when Sesshoumaru was willingly participating in a personal conversation!

"What do you remember exactly?"

He was staring straight at her and for the first time she felt no hostile intensity or intimidation from his eyes. His gaze was empty and full simultaneously, as though he was seeing, but not things in the physical world. These were things only he could see.

"My uncle…and a girl. I think her name was Hitomi. But the memories are broken."

"Broken? Like snippets?"

He nodded. "As for my father, I know I look like him and that his presence lingered for days even when he was gone. But that is all."

"What about your uncle and Hitomi?" She prayed to the gods she wasn't pressing her luck, but Sesshoumaru was opening up to her!

"Hitomi was beautiful and Uncle Kazuma…Kazuma was a hard man. And he was always right."

Sesshoumaru's jaw drew taut, tightened muscles pursing his lips into a thin line. His eyes refocused and it finally occurred to her that Sesshoumaru was previously in the world of memories, abandoning the constraints of reality by allowing her to join his voyage into reminiscing. But the name Kazuma alone shattered this delightful interlude shared between two newly formed friends, shadowing his past once again.

She may never know what went wrong.

**x x x**

He had dreamt of flowers and laughter, sweet laughter that rang with innocence and love. He recalled white blossoms swaying in sync with a small breeze in the greenest of meadows while a child's giggles, even softer than the petals themselves, washed over him. He felt content. The dream was connecting and disconnecting all the same, relaying a sense of realness that felt too far from him to be real. It felt like a premonition, as though a seer had told him that happiness awaited him in a life to come. Or perhaps that little girl's laugh was an experience of a past life, a recollection he was never meant to remember.

He wished he could've slept forever, the breeze warming his face as he listened to a little girl enjoy the world around her, but the stars once again shattered the beauty that was his dreamscape, a feeling of malcontent coming over him. His mind shouted in alert until he rose with haste, a familiar scent wafting by his nose, one he had smelt recently for that matter. But the scent was short lived as a tingling sensation raked the outermost layer of his epidermis, the hairs on his arms rising fractionally in response. He supposed many people wouldn't realize such a subtle shift in the air, but he did; he could even smell it, and it was saturated in power.

He stood silently, sparing a glance at Kagome to see if she stirred, but she didn't appear to be waking. The wind was rushing, but nothing stirred. An eruption, a crash, a muffled scream and lots of blood. A light was fading from the dark backdrop of night and he ventured toward it, expectation of the known driving his steady footsteps. Why did this chain of events not surprise him in the least?

He was waiting for something to happen, but what he could not describe; though he wished it were possible. Perhaps that was his problem lately—the fact that the possible was indefinite. He had yet to truly know himself.

The blood hung heavy in the air now and he knew it was some distance away, but not too far to where his feet couldn't take him expediently. As soon as he moved to propel himself forward, he stopped. Hesitation consumed him and a piercing thought rummaged through his mind like a ruthless bandit, blade in hand.

Should he leave Kagome here, unprotected?

The scent of blood remained thick, weighing down the air around him, making his indecision all the more potent, but the wind had changed yet again. He supposed that meant he had missed his opportunity to meet his stalker, but he felt sure another chance would happen upon him.

Dawn was nearing; there was no mistake, for every one of his senses picked up on its subtle cues. The air was warming, that he could feel; the insects were quieting and the birds were rising, that he could hear; the stars' brightness was fading with the blackened sky, that he could see; and the breeze smelt sweeter, signaling the fresh break of day; that much he could smell. Despite knowing this much, Kagome would not wake for some time to come.

**x x x**

The steam rose so delicately and swirled upward so gracefully that she mused it was a dragon, ascending toward the heavens on a cloud of glory.

"Well, I'm glad you feel good about your classes," her mother said conversationally.

"Yeah, I studied real hard." She knew what her mother was thinking. The confidence Kagome sported about her grades surprised her mother. Inuyasha didn't have a very good history of being conducive to school.

"I'm proud of you, Kagome. You've been over there a lot lately. I thought I'd see more of you during such important times as exams."

She always came home a few days before tests these past few months. No more all-nighters and morning runs to school spent frantically recalling complex equations. She had been more prudent about her future lately, much to her mother's joy, but her mother still worried that she would fall back into that hopeless rut of chasing demons and an unobtainable boy's heart. Things really had changed.

Her mother sipped her tea, eyes closed and thoughts heavy. She could always tell these things. Sometimes, she wondered, had her father lived, would she be able to read her mother so impeccably? All they really had was each other, and so the other's heart was always on display for the other to see. Grandpa was too old and Souta too young, and thus a profound bond between mother and daughter had been born, only to evolve even more deeply over the years.

Like that time she cried by the sacred tree. Her heart was hurting and her eyes burning, and her mother held her and said what needed to be said. And she returned to Inuyasha, knowing what she needed to know…

_Inuyasha… I wonder what he's doing?_

"I noticed you took a lot of bandages," her mother said, startling her out of her reverie. "Has someone been seriously hurt?"

Sesshoumaru… 

"Mama?" she began uncertainly, not sure how to word her thoughts. "Have you ever started to know someone and realized how wrong you were about them?"

"Why of course. When I first met your father I thought he was an arrogant womanizer! And he was anything but." Her mother smiled faintly, her eyelids heavy as she stared toward the floor, a loving gaze enrapturing aging eyes. Her mother suddenly looked so much older.

She missed her father, but her mother must miss him even more. Perhaps she should tell her mother that she ate an an-dango the other day.

"Are you staying for dinner, dear?"

"Yeah, I'll help cook!"

"Good. Then you can tell me all about _him_," her mother said as she rose from her seat, teacup in hand.

Her mother really did know her.

**x x x**

He followed his nose to his destination, his mind still rolling over the events of the day thus far. He had stolen, or rather borrowed, one of Kagome's books while she slept that morning. It was a bit confusing, but the words spoke of a rationale beyond his comprehension, which only served to fuel his determination to figure out 'microeconomics.' And that was why he didn't return the book to its proper place. He still felt slightly guilty about swiping the book and not telling Kagome, but she said today was her last exam and she hadn't been reading that one, so he assumed she was done with it anyway and he simply needed something to do to pass the time.

After she left, he ventured out to the place where that power had been unleashed earlier that morning. The scent of demon blood led him straight to it. The ground had deep, symmetrical grooves in it, three to be precise, all of which converged together at one point—the point where the most blood rested. Other than that, there were no indications as to what could've caused such an extreme upheaval of land. He felt certain he would figure out this mystery. Just looking at the marks made his stomach churn. There was something so very familiar about it.

Now he was off to the nearest human village, the one in which he supposed Kagome resided. With bathing suit in hand and a determined stride, he was set on mending her favorite suit that he had rendered useless. He could already smell the village. Smoke, dung and herbs hung in the air as though suspended there by its obscenity, for even the ground refused to absorb such disgusting and overpowering scents. He would deal with it though. He needed to fix what he had ruined.

He reached the outer perimeter of the little village where men drove plow horses and held large tools in their hands. He quickly realized that this was a very poor village and begun to second-guess his previous assumption. Kagome smelt nice and dressed cleanly, unlike these commoners. Their clothes were nothing like the ones Kagome adorned, and thus he concluded that Kagome must come from a wealthy family. Perhaps this village was her home and she was simply an elite and so her home would be isolated in the back, away from the unpleasant peasants.

As he neared the working men, he inhaled the scents of dirt and sweat, so musty they were that he had to suppress the urge to gag. The men noticed his presence and fear intertwined quickly with their grotesque smells, making them all the more distasteful. A few stood still, as though frozen in ice, while one ran off and the remaining ones dropped to their knees, their foreheads connecting with the ground.

"P-please…d-demon lord…spare us!"

He stopped mid-stride, taken aback by the men's pleas, confusion and reproach threading through his mind. Did humans always desperately cling onto their own pathetic lives? He couldn't help but to think of them as ridiculous and selfish creatures. The moment was briefly forgotten as the smells of fish and mushrooms overtook his olfactory senses, blocking out all else and thankfully so. Then he heard himself speak, though he wasn't even aware that he had willed the words.

"I do not eat human food."

"Huh? Oh-oh, I m-mean, thank you, milord! Thank you for not eating us! May the gods bless you!"

He watched the men scrambled to their feet and rush away from him with sloppy, hurried steps. They were running for their lives as though he would change his mind at any second and devour them whole. They were nothing but fools. Their scents alone discouraged that particular course of action.

He clutched the smooth fabric tighter in his hands, his anger at those humans' impudence growing. He was only here to have Kagome's bathing suit mended and here they were—

_Kagome… She is nothing like these humans…or Hitomi…._

His anger cooling, he set off into the village, ignoring the stares and gasps, finally realizing just how disconnected humans and demons really were. He and Kagome had a very odd relationship indeed.

After tiring of all the ruckus, he finally demanded one of the village wenches to find him a seamstress to mend Kagome's garment. She hesitantly led him to a small hut where an elderly woman and a young apprentice resided.

He stared at the old hag. Age was unkind to her and death clinged to her person. She was horrendous to every one of his senses, but she didn't fear him like the others had, which he found interesting.

"How may help you, demon?" she asked, not bothering to mask her exhaustion and spite.

"I need this garment mended, old woman."

He held the suit out to her, which she accepted immediately, inspecting it from the second it met her aged fingertips. Her apprentice trembled and exuded fear, which heightened exponentially when he turned his attention to her. He found her antics disgusting.

"Tell me, old woman, why do you not fear me as do all the other people residing in this village?" he asked plainly, though he remained curious.

"I am an old widow, death beckons me. Why should I fear a demon whose only threat to me is the possibility that he may grant my dearest wish? Sen, fetch me needle and thread."

"So, you can fix it?"

"Yes. The thread won't match, but it'll work just fine. What is this cloth made from? A demon's skin perhaps?" she asked curiously, her eyes continuing to roam the odd fabric.

"That is none of your concern." _The old woman does not recognize this fabric either. How curious…_ "How long will this take?"

"A little while. You may return for it if you wish."

He nodded curtly and exited the hut, not wanting to smell old decay and young fear any longer. He stepped out into the sunlight, new and similarly menacing scents crossing his nose. He looked down at his attire and realized how very different it was from these humans' dress. He wore baggy gray pants that stretched significantly and a large white shirt with shortened sleeves and a blue swoosh-like symbol across his chest. Coupled with his demonic appearance, he looked quite foreign in comparison to these people. Where did Kagome get her clothes made?

He felt intense stares fixate upon his body, more intense than he had previously encountered in this village. There was a degree of power within these eyes that looked upon him and his head turned to evaluate this minimal threat, though some fear lingered within them.

An old woman, bow in hand and a patch over one eye stared at him, a look of shock plastered on her face. She was not alone. A young woman and a holy man stood at her side, their eyes all transfixed on him, the young man clutching his staff with whitened knuckles. Their powers were meager in comparison to his own, this he knew. He wouldn't even have spared them a second glance had the young man not spoken. It was a whisper rather, uttered strangely under his breath as though not meant for his ears, but his youkai hearing didn't miss a syllable, let alone a beat of their hearts, and hence his attention was now focused intently upon the trio a short distance away.

"Sesshoumaru…"

**x x x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 9:**

_xxx_

The sun was shining and the breeze was cool, the effervescence of fresh spring surrounding him, though his spirits remained deadened, likened to the frigid winter just past. He found himself in a meadow where he should've stilled himself to admire its subtle beauty, untouched by man and preserved from drought and war. But these things mattered not anymore as he walked briskly through the soft grass, not caring to notice that nature was all around him, offering him a tranquility that had been long lost with the simplicity inherent in something as unappreciated as newly born blades of grass.

The serenity of being that had evaded him with the absence of a remarkable father, the entrance of a hardened uncle and the rejection of a human woman who was undeserving of his attentions from the very beginning. He had grown weary of disrespecting himself—something he would never do ever again.

He smelt the human female, who possessed a nostalgic scent of sorts, before he felt her presence and even before he heard her footfalls, light as they were, fall upon the grass below her feet. She held a power he was unaccustomed to, but not completely unfamiliar with, but that knowledge did little to spark his curiosity since those with holy powers shied away from him, knowing their powers were too weak to challenge his own. He continued walking quickly, as he always did, not interested in fleeting meetings or useless pleasantries—that was, until the woman who was a miko did something unexpected.

"Demon," she said authoritatively, yelling, so her voice would travel across the meadow. "You approach a peaceful village. Turn back now and leave us. We have no need for youkai here." He stopped then, fascination threading its way through him as he heard her draw an arrow and notch it in her bow. Though the string was taut with resistance and steadied with confidence, her fear was so visible he could reach out and touch it.

He looked at her from over his shoulder, only then noticing the traditional garbs of a miko that had thrived throughout the centuries and would probably continue to thrive even longer since the Japanese revered tradition as they did. She was homely and her face was scarred from battle, though he was sure such an experienced miko had yet to cross paths with a youkai like him. Of all the brief encounters he had had with humans possessing holy powers never once had any raised a weapon or even a threat toward him, until now.

"I suggest you lower your weapon. I have no use for humans. Your meager village is insignificant."

"Perhaps to you it is. However insignificant it may be to a vicious demon does not diminish the threat you pose to it. Turn back now, demon!"

He turned fully to her, staring at her blankly and bewildered that she ignored his warning and stood her ground. He usually wouldn't waste his time with a second warning, but he _was _curious. What would she do? Would she actually release her arrow and try to purify him?

"No." It was plain and simple and her defiant reaction would teach him much about humans and thus catalyze his future actions toward her species, though she would never know that. He saw the twitch of muscle flex in her right forearm, the hand holding back the string tightening as her eye rolled over him and focused on an exact point in the space between them. She was aiming.

He wasted no time as he lunged forward, legs propelling his feet in a speed she had never witnessed and her surprise didn't escape him. Her defiance was almost respectable, almost, and her determination led her hand to relax, arrow driving forward, left arm taut with practiced fluency as her target moved toward her with deadly intent. If her arrow missed, she was dead. Her aim was perfect, but she ultimately failed to realize what was rapidly approaching her—_failure_.

His right arm extended, the arrow reached his body within a meter of her and he released his energy whip from its confines, all the while releasing drops of liquid poison at a time until the whip was coated in the deadly substance. Then in a flash of light and green mist, the arrow split—two pieces of wood flying in opposite directions, already well behind the demon moving at a speed too fast for her to follow. Her gasp was faint and stifled since her throat was already pressed between his thumb and index finger, her feet dangling limply while suspended in air, her blood already running through his fingers and down his hand.

"Fool."

"B-but," she managed to speak, her difficulties astounding, "my ho-hol-y p-ow—"

"Are but a shadow of nothingness in comparison to my youki."

He was about to crush her windpipe and end this charade when he realized something of vital importance that had somehow managed to escape his sight until that point in time. The acid from his whip had splattered across her face. Her flesh was burning and her eyes were but vacant sockets. He could already see bone peeking through charred flesh. She was as good as dead now. The poison would spread through her bloodstream rather quickly, at best giving her only a couple more hours of painstaking life.

Humans were so fragile and so brief that their permeating fear was almost understandable. They fought against great odds to preserve their small lives and every now and then their lack of sense and instinct led them into battles they could not possibly win. They were simply too weak. And the weakest of them all were like the miko in his grasp—too concerned with the welfare of others to remember their own self-preservation. She was nothing but a fool. Had he wanted to slaughter her entire village, he would've simply done so, and there was nothing she could've done to stop him. Luckyily for her, he didn't entertain such a notion. She wasted her life on a ridiculous concept—_protection_.

He realized then what her scent reminded him of, though it was virtually unimportant now. She smelt like an old magnolia tree covered in fresh snow. The scent was fading as his poison overwhelmed her body and soon enough that magnolia that represented her scent would fade as the old tree fell prey to the death of winter. Her resilient nature would fail as had she, at protecting her own life, which was what she should've been concerned about from the start.

He dropped her on the ground and turned back to resume his walk toward a destination he didn't know, nor did he care to know. He never looked back as he walked on with the fleeting knowledge that he'd just left a woman for dead.

And it didn't bother him in the least.

_xxx_

Now, two holy humans stood before him with a demon slayer, but the older human woman demanded his attention, though the monk who said his name should've demanded more of it. The demon slayer stood idly beside the elderly woman and the miko's eye patch only served to heighten his nostalgia as he stared at the two. That miko he had killed long ago was a warrior, life devoted to slaughtering youkai, and he had taken away her eyes.

"Sesshoumaru-sama," the old miko said with a voice ragged from age and rasped with wisdom, "what brings ye to this human village? We are destitute and uninteresting and I assure ye nothing here is worthy of ye attentions."

They definitely knew of him. How, though, was what he wanted to know, making this place highly interesting to him, contrary to her words.

"Surely ye have ye reasons."

Yes, to repair what he had damaged, but her attitude toward him sparked a multitude of questions. Was he known as a rational demon? He figured that much based upon his exhaustive inquiry of all that surrounded him. That thought made him speculate the reason he killed that miko all those years ago. Why _did_ he kill that miko again? He simply didn't know.

"I am here to repair a garment."

They stared at him in unadulterated curiosity and near disbelief.

"Speaking of garments," the monk stated strangely, "where did you come to possess such interesting clothing?"

The monk was eyeing him oddly and by the slight inflection of his voice, Sesshoumaru knew something was amiss. He felt the tang of deceit roll over his tongue to settle sourly in his jaw, tightening the muscle with intangible spite. He didn't like that particular sensation.

"Do I know you, _monk_?" he asked as his eyes fell upon the purple-clad man, pinning him with a glacial glare. This man was sly, he could tell, and Sesshoumaru found him overall distasteful.

"Well," the man said while scratching his head in pseudo embarrassment, "not _really_, but that's to be expected, right?"

"How so?" Sesshoumaru demanded, hoping his tone of voice would be enough to deter this man from further deceit. The monk then took on an expression that could only be described as flabbergasted, thusly ensuring Sesshoumaru that his plan had indeed been a success.

"Huh? I mean, uh, I'm _human_."

"_And_?" he prodded, hoping to excrete as much information as possible.

"And you hate humans," the monk said with an interesting tone bordering on disbelief.

That much he had figured, though the reality of Kagome's increasing camaraderie made him question the truth behind that assertion. Was his disdain for humans an act, a façade—was there something more? Or did the fact that Kagome wanted to help him through this recent ordeal soften his hatred of her kind? He knew his dislike of them was real, he felt the distaste settle in the back of his throat like bitter sake only worthy of spitting out in good riddance—their weakness, fallibility, their ridiculous notions and conceptions all accumulating to brand them as an ultimately inferior and unworthy species. And yet, Kagome was there and something told him he had never _really_ needed her in the first place. He sat next to her, talked to her, jested and jostled her and even swam with her.

_Why? _Maybe he simply had no true conception of who he was, though an inner voice hinted at a predisposed nature of hostility that seemed so foreign yet so native to him. He remembered the bitterness and dispassion left behind by a departing father and picked up and cultivated by a cold uncle. He recalled mercilessly killing a woman with no reason other than a whim based upon a misconceived sense of disobedience. What kind of person was he?

And the worst part was what his mind had been repeatedly asking him all the while—'why care?'

"Why are you here, Sesshoumaru-sama?" the younger female asked, her oversized weapon giving away her position in life, though that fact bothered him little. "You haven't come after Tetsusaiga again, have you? I-I, don't mean to pry, but I can think of no other explanation and I had thought you stopped that particular quest, seeing how useless it is and all." The slayer oozed anxiety, apparently thinking she said things she shouldn't have and subsequently fearing the consequences.

_Tetsusaiga_? _Oh yes, Kagome had mentioned that name before. What was it again?_

The monk immediately put a hand on the woman's arm and stepped forward, a curious gleam in his eye. "Sesshoumaru-sama, can you tell me what Tetsusaiga is?"

The monk was clever, but he supposed a conniving man should be. The monk was setting a trap, the Tetsusaiga bait to ensnare him. A dog never likes to be cornered and neither did Sesshoumaru. Before his mind could even register what he was doing, the monk's neck was in his grasp and he idly wondered if this was his body's natural reaction to human defiance. Maybe it was his way of demonstrating his superiority; they were simply helpless in this position.

He heard several footsteps encircle him and the slayer unstrapped her weapon and the spiritual powers of the miko flared. He was surrounded by armed men, awaiting the instructions of the old miko, whom they obviously respected on a profound level. It was meaningless; he already knew they were powerless against him.

"Tell me how we met," Sesshoumaru demanded through gritted teeth, thinking it abominable that these humans had figured out his secret. His blood was boiling with rage that they now knew he was nothing more than a blank slate. He loosened his grip a bit to aid the monk's speech.

"I travel with your younger brother, Inuyasha. You came after him one night for the Tetsusaiga and I aided him in fending you off. You would have killed me had it not been for Lady Kagome. But I do not think us great enemies anymore, not since you learned Naraku deceived you—"

All fell on deaf ears at that moment and Sesshoumaru's grip softened. _Kagome_… This man was speaking of his Kagome. He felt the rough ache of a blade sliding into his back and the monk yelled in protest. Sesshoumaru sensed the men falling back and the miko begging something of him. She feared his reaction, and naturally so. The blood was warm as it ran down his back, bleeding through the gray cloth Kagome had provided him. Again, he had ruined something that belonged to Kagome, but she had given it to _him_ so it shouldn't matter, but somehow he knew that was a rare honor for someone like him.

Kagome knew these people and supposedly he did as well. It would be foolish to kill the indignant man for his transgression, as rightful as he would be to injure the man in return. Kagome might be angry if he sought his revenge and, for whatever reason, that thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

The monk bowed low before him, holding prayer beads in his left hand, his right hand clenched tightly and held close to his chest as though in anticipation of an inevitable battle. "Please, Sesshoumaru-sama, I beg for your mercy. The man did not know any better. He followed his instincts. Humans feel the need to protect. Please, I beg of you to understand."

He understood. He had killed them before because that faulty instinct provided him the opportunity to introduce them to death. He also knew holy men were wise, for this was not the first time he had encountered one.

_xxx_

It had been fifty years since the last and only time he had passed this village. He would have thought nothing of it either had it not been for burning wood and incense that carried with it an earthy smell laced with a scent that should have perished long ago and was only freshly decayed. And so he followed the scent until he reached a funeral procession that had stilled for prayers of remembrance and good tidings in the afterlife.

Old magnolias covered in fresh snow, and the tree had finally succumbed to winter and the snow frozen in ice.

He stood still, his height permitting him to see the body. An aged woman's corpse was covered in new garbs, red and white, and made of silk. Her skin was dry and splotched from years of hard labor and exposure to a relentless sun. Her eyes were covered with a black mask of sorts that extended past the bridge of her nose and disappeared behind both ears, the rest covered by brittle gray hair. Her scars were almost invisible now, but calluses remained pervasive on her hands where she held her bow strong.

The miko had lived somehow and survived into old age where disease had taken her instead of the poison of a powerful demon. It was remarkable to say the least. He stood there, perplexed and fascinated that a human had survived his poison when a man vied for his attention. He turned reluctantly and met the eyes of a young monk.

"Have you come to pay homage to the revered Aiko-sama?"

"I am just passing through," he replied, silently wondering why the monk was not more displeased to see a demon at a miko's burial, or in a human village for that matter.

"I see. Since you are here I must tell you of her or else the gods may frown upon me. She was wise and compassionate. Her power was great, but not as great as her heart. She took sympathy on all, human and demon alike."

"_Demon_?" Sesshoumaru couldn't filter the surprise from his voice.

"Yes. She was once a warrior miko, aimed at ending the lives of youkai, thinking all of them evil and thirsting for human blood. But one day, she confronted a youkai with the intent to kill him. He took her sight, but not her life. She realized then that fortune had smiled upon her, though fate had decided to teach her this important lesson by painful means. You see the path we walk upon is the path we are meant to tread. The key to happiness, therefore, does not lie in power, as the great miko once thought, but in our ability to decipher life's tests and its subtle lessons, and to learn from them. Adversity teaches us what it truly means to be a good person. Thus, fulfillment is derived from enlightenment. How would we know what is good if we do not understand what is evil?"

"You think evil is ignorance?"

"Yes. An evil soul may be knowledgeable, but that dark soul lacks the ability to understand what is really before him. Enlightenment is knowledge of what is true. Truth leads to good and good leads to happiness."

"Hn," he nearly spat, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Tell me, do you strive to understand truth?"

His eyes drifted away from the young monk and grazed over the crowd gathered around a meager shrine, soft chants filling the air. He didn't show the miko mercy that day nearly fifty years ago, but she had deciphered it as such and it changed her life. She had found happiness indirectly through him. It was a strange thought, one that crawled under his skin uncomfortably, which was something Sesshoumaru was unaccustomed to experiencing.

He thought the monk and the dead miko fools that day, spouting about truth and enlightenment and contentment being intricately intertwined. When really the truth of the matter was that the miko had misinterpreted the situation and deciphered a falsity. He didn't spare her and, therefore, truth wasn't what had ultimately brought her happiness. She had lived a lie.

However, he would find himself visiting that same monk again and again.

_xxx_

Mercy—he had felt the need for it before, but his uncle had forcefully ridded him of it. The concept of mercy was reintroduced that day and he held it close thereafter, displaying it at his discretion, which was highly affected by his mood. But never had he chosen to show mercy when a person had directly violated him in any manner. He was certain he had granted mercy on numerous occasions, though he could not recall when or why, but this man had stabbed him. Not a killing blow or even a lasting wound, but still the man had violated him.

The monk's pleas were as useless as they were meaningless, and Sesshoumaru heard the mountainous gasps of surprise and alleviation when he walked away, demonstrating the rarest form of mercy he could've ever accomplished. A human stabbed him, and he did nothing more than slowly retreat, not wanting anything to do with these lowly mortal creatures. The irony of it all was that the truth behind his course of action this day lay with a human female, who was so far away at the moment that he couldn't even detect the faintest trace of her scent.

And none of these people would ever know the truth behind his reasoning this day, leaving them to interpret it as they wished.

**x x x**

"Another one of those scholarship applications arrived in the mail again," her mother said enthusiastically as she shuffled through the mail.

"The one from Tokyo U?"

"Yep," her mother replied, holding the infamous letter out for inspection. This was the third time that particular letter came.

"Just throw it away," Kagome replied, refusing to let hope blind her from the reality of things.

"Why?" her mother asked, disappointment littering her voice.

"Come on, mom, be realistic. I barely graduated high school and it took longer than the average student."

"But there's nothing average about you, dear."

"More like below average."

"But you're doing well in community college."

"I've just completed my second semester. I haven't even gotten my grades back yet!"

"But you felt good about them, right?"

"That's not the point, mom. I filled out some of those scholarship finders or what not and that's why they keep coming—not because I'm some exceptional student or something. I'll never get a scholarship." She could feel the dejection filling her voice, furthering her frustration. She wanted to go to Tokyo U. It was a great university with a stellar psychology department. But the truth of the matter was that she'd never get in, nor could she ever afford to get in.

"Good grades in community college is the gateway to acceptance into a respectable university. You know this. That's why you're doing it and working so hard to boot!"

"Pipe dreams, mom, pipe dreams. I just need some sort of degree. You and I both know that I'll never get a scholarship, especially a good one that would put me through college. And if I did, it would probably be some second rate university on the other side of the country."

Pipe Dreams—that was the story of Kagome's life. On her fifteenth birthday, Kagome had no need for dreams, or rather she had abandoned them. She made pretty good grades, though they usually fell short of her friends' marks, and she had a fulfilling social life and a supportive family offering her comfort each day's start and end. But school was boring and so she didn't really entertain thoughts of college, thinking she'd deal with that road when it came, which happened too abruptly when it did. Boys seemed to like her for the most part, though she found virtually all of her admirers uninteresting, as she seemed to find most things in her serene, insignificant little life.

Then, she was pulled into a well and saw a slumbering boy who was fated to mark the god tree and her life by a spellbound arrow, fired by her incarnate of all people. Her life in the present was made difficult by her life in the past, but perhaps that was Fate's plan all along—to make things exciting for her. But it came at a cost and now all those things she neglected before her fifteenth birthday suddenly seemed so very important.

She would never see Tokyo U and make her mother proud like every parent became when their child succeeded in a way they did not.

She couldn't blame that on Inuyasha like she did when she decided to spend more time in her own era. She suddenly felt bad for the way she treated him. Guilt pooled in her belly when she thought over the things she had said to him.

_xxx_

She thought she could see every star in the sky. It was so clustered and speckled that the navy backdrop almost seemed nonexistent, as though the sky itself was made of nothing more than bright, sparkling stars. Maybe tonight wasn't a good time to talk about this, but she already made the mistake of setting the discussion in motion, thus solidifying the end of the night's former beauty.

"Will you get on with it already?"

Inuyasha was being harsh, but that was expected. It wasn't because he was impatient and evasive of more intimate matters, but rather that he tensed from the moment he grasped her hand at the lip of the well. He must have smelt her apprehension; there was no other explanation.

_No use in delaying; there's no better time than the present. _

That thought almost made her laugh, seeing as how she was presently in the past, five hundred years to be exact. And that was her problem right now. Time was not on her side, and it hadn't been—not since she met Inuyasha.

"I'm going to spend more time in my era. I enrolled in community college back home."

"What? But you just spent a whole month there! You said your mom would stop you from coming back for good if you didn't do that summer school or whatever it was!" He was angry, but he always was when it came to this particular topic.

"I know. I did what I had to do. I'm tired, Inuyasha. Tired of leading a double life and tired of disappointing my family. I need to start thinking of my future, you know."

"Well duh! That's exactly why we need to find the remaining jewel shards and defeat Naraku for good! There'll be no future as long as he's around!" He pumped his fist in the air to emphasize his point, like he always did when he got on his high horse. He was missing the point, however, like usual.

She felt something then that she wouldn't recognize until after the fact. Her gut twisted and her temple throbbed, the aching leaving a bitter taste in the back of her throat as though she had just regurgitated her supper. She was bitter.

"You're so stubborn, Inuyasha. I agreed to help you get your revenge and all, but you always forget how hard it is for me!" she said a little more harshly than she had intended.

"My revenge? Have you forgotten that you're the one that broke the damn jewel! Don't be stupid, Kagome. You're honor-bound to fix your mistake," he replied in a similar tone, which only further fueled that bitterness accumulating in her mouth.

"_Stupid_? I guess you're right as always, Inuyasha. I _am_ pretty stupid. Stupid for putting my life on hold to follow around a hard-headed hanyou and getting nothing in return. And yeah, I broke the jewel. And it probably wouldn't have gotten broken in the first place if you hadn't tried to steal it from me!" she said as she stood abruptly, pointing an accusing finger at him all the while.

She had never called him a hanyou before.

"Well, excuse me for being a little pissed off! I had just woken up from a fifty-year-old spell to see a girl that looked _a lot_ like the woman that put me under _that spell_!" He stood then, even leaning in a bit to invade her personal space, knowing that would further rake her nerves that were highly sensitive at the moment.

"And you seem to forget to appreciate who freed you from that stupid spell! Poor, poor Inuyasha. I'm sorry I forget how hard life has been for you. I just thought that someone like you that has been through so much would be more understanding. But then again, you are dense. You were too dense to figure out that you were being deceived, so I guess you're too dense to see what's going on in front of your face right now! Your friend is exhausted and all you can think of is yourself. You're so selfish, Inuyasha. I _am_ going to spend more time at home and that's final! If you're so pissed off about it, why not go find your perfect Kikyou to help you find those precious shards!"

He looked absolutely crestfallen in the starlight. She suddenly wished the stars' light would diminish and darkness would reign in that moment. That way, she wouldn't have to see his expression so clearly. She felt ashamed, taking a step back, fearful of his hurt and wishing to distance herself from she had just caused.

"I'm sorry I'm so selfish, Kagome," he said softly, too softly. "I guess I just don't know any other way to live. It's always been just me before you came around. Do what you need to."

And then he walked away. He didn't run away or take to the trees like he usually did if he were to turn his back. He didn't even huff or puff or explode, falling into a sitting position—arms crossed, back rigid, expression hard—which was most common in instances like these when they fought. It was odd and uncomfortable and so very cold, and it grew colder with every step he took that carried his body farther and farther away from her.

She began to think she had never regretted anything more in her entire life.

_xxx_

"Kagome, are you all right?" her mother asked softly, concern written on her voice.

She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, hoping that memory would vanish with the phlegm coating the back of her mouth. "Yeah, what were you saying again?"

The worry remained evident in her mother's eyes. "Just promise me you'll look at it when you get back. I already filled out the necessary information for you on the last application they sent. All you have to do is write the essay."

She sighed, very audibly. "Mom—"

"Kagome, please. I know how much you want to go there and this scholarship is offered by their psychology department—the very department you'd be in! This scholarship is need-based and gives special consideration to students currently enrolled in community college or those who have already obtained an associate's degree. You see—it's written right here!"

She didn't need to look; she had already read the application. She couldn't bring herself to throw it away, though she knew she'd never win such a prestigious scholarship. It offered enough money to put her through seven or more years at Tokyo U. She knew the recipient would be a stellar student with sky high marks that went to community college near her small home so that she could nurse her dying mother back to health, all the while engaging in extensive community service. So _why did_ she hold onto the application again? Hope—it was all she had left, though it had a history of failing her.

She had once hoped for her father to return to her. She was left with young disappointment. She had once hoped to be a great student to make her mother proud. She was left far short of her goal. She had once hoped to wake from her nightmare after falling through a time portal in her backyard. She was left sourly disillusioned. She had once hoped to protect a sacred jewel from harm. She was left wallowing in her own inadequacy. She had once hoped to successfully live a double life. She was left acutely mistaken. She had once hoped for a boy's heart. She was left desperately wanting.

After all that disappointment had scarred her life, surely hope would eventually fulfill her. That was why she hadn't thrown it away like reason had instructed her. Maybe this was to be her reward for enduring so much disappointment.

"Please, honey. You want it so bad and I can't give it to you. You must try to find a way into Tokyo U."

"What if I don't get it?" she asked, feeling smaller than she could ever recall.

"There's always next year and you _have_ to try. I just don't want you to have any regrets."

x x x 

She jumped through the well without even thinking about it, which struck her as odd as she climbed out of the wooden relic. Lately, her mind ran circles, stalling her in her descent through time. She worried about anything and everything, suddenly realizing that she carried too much with her everywhere she went. When she was in the past, she should leave the future where it was—five hundred years away and out of reach. She would like to think she should do the same with the future, leaving the past behind while she was there, but that's not how life worked; the past was always with her, beckoning for a reexamination at some point or another. Memories were ignited by all sorts of stimuli and there was no way to prevent it.

Like now—climbing out of the well had been a chore as of late. Inuyasha wasn't there to help her out and all because she had lied to him. She pondered her decision to deceive Inuyasha as she traversed through the woods and to his eccentricity of a brother, half or not. A small part of her felt guilty, but a larger part of her was glad. Glad because she was seeing something that she would never otherwise experience. A detour into the life and mind of Sesshoumaru, or at least as much as he would offer.

She continued on this line of thinking, silently giggling to herself as she thought about the swimming fiasco. He was fun, oddly enough, and he legitimately seemed to want her to have a good time. She even swore she saw him genuinely smile, though she couldn't be sure since she was on his back at the time. That was a nice thought she had neglected—Sesshoumaru gave her piggyback rides! It was almost too priceless to ponder! He was so fast and she could feel every muscle move on his back and…

_Oh. Gods. He has a nice back. Stop now, Kagome._

Just as she began to chastise herself, she entered the little clearing where she had made camp for several days now. She immediately spotted Sesshoumaru sitting on a log by the fire pit, where he usually sat as still as a rock. She smiled and for some inexplicable reason she felt like she shouldn't be smiling, but no matter how hard she tried to end the grin's reign, she simply failed and gave up trying. When she noticed that delightful back she was previously thinking of her smile finally loosened its hold.

"You're bleeding!" she said as she ran to him, dropping her backpack in a forgotten heap.

She immediately crouched down and inspected the wound, peering through the small hole in his shirt. Not able to see much, she pushed her hand gently through the hole and ran her hand along his back. He gasped—softly, almost inaudibly—she was glad she didn't miss it.

"It's healed," she said, removing her hand, almost reluctantly. "What happened?" He said nothing for a while and when she was about to stand in frustration and swear at him, he spoke.

"I killed a priestess."

That was not what she expected to hear.

"Except I didn't."

"What?"

"A long time ago," he drawled, "a miko challenged me and I sliced her arrow." He held up his hand, inspecting his claws as though they were foreign to him. "My poison blinded her and undoubtedly entered her blood through her eyes. I left her for dead."

She waited for him to say more and when he didn't, she decided to help him along. "But you said you didn't kill her?"

"Fifty years or so later I passed that same village and saw her body. She was old and had just parted for the afterlife. She had thrived and I was simply fascinated that she did. I did not feel remorse for my actions and no regret for leaving a woman for dead. A monk once told me that regret is an inevitable part of life, the greatest of regrets being the result of hurting people, especially loved ones."

Her heart stopped for a split second as she listened to him, his words pricking her chest. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought he was trying to kill her.

"I did it again, I think. I killed another woman. I hear her scream and see nothing but a green fog. And I feel no regret."

Oh, gods, that sounds familiar… 

"I told that monk I regret nothing I have done, except for not killing my late father's mistress. He told me that only bad people harbor no genuine regrets and then tells me to think about that."

She feels her heart pumping then and it aches. It didn't ache for her and her regret, or for Inuyasha, or for her hardships in leading a dichotomized life. It didn't ache for the things in which she thought it should. It ached for Sesshoumaru.

"I am a bad person. Why? Why, Kagome, are you here?"

He looked at her then, eyes darkened with regret for perhaps the first true time in all his life. He seemed to be looking to her for an answer and she simply couldn't deny him, but she didn't know what to say. He was a bad person, sometimes—perhaps most of the time—but there was a little girl somewhere who was no doubt sick with worry for him. Yet, she didn't know what to say to him.

So she acted on impulse, and perhaps instinct, and did the only thing that crossed her mind, though she did it so quickly that she could hardly believe what she did, nor could she assert that she gave it any kind of thought at all.

She hugged him.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as he sat rigidly on the ground, legs crossed, her own legs straddling one of his thighs, her calf pushing into one of his, and she hugged him. She tried to convey to him in that one extraordinary moment that he wasn't alone and that _she_ _cared_. She wanted to tell him that the world wasn't miserable enough to dismiss even the worst of people, and she tried to tell him in her own way that he was far from the worst of people. She wondered if he could feel it. Inuyasha always told her that actions spoke louder than words, and she believed him, and so she held his brother, testing that theory.

Finally, he acknowledged her. Sesshoumaru hugged her back.

**x x x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 10:**

_xxx_

She devoured her lunch in record time and somehow managed to run down the shrine steps faster as ever, even with her bicycle sprawled awkwardly across her back. Upon reaching the bottom of those hellacious steps, she dropped the bike and leapt smoothly onto it while still running, hoping she wasn't too late, especially worried since her mother stalled her by forcing her to eat lunch before she could go.

Tsume was leaving today.

Tsume was a boy, of course, and Kagome thought it was possible that she loved him. At the ripe age of thirteen, Kagome was no stranger to crushes, but this particular one had lasted and thrived for a few years now. Tsume was in her class for as long as she could remember, and the cute boy he was when he had first caught her eye at age nine, was now a stunningly handsome teenager.

She peddled as fast as she could, hoping to make the mile trek down the road to his house in a fraction of the time it normally took. Tsume lived on the same street as her, but due to the historic shrine, the houses were significantly spaced, but nothing a bike and youthful legs couldn't handle. She needed to peddle faster.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were friends; such good friends in fact that Tsume had taught her little brother how to throw a baseball. Tsume was the catcher on the local little league team and he was a renowned slugger for his age. The subsequent arm bulk from endless batting practices didn't go unnoticed by Kagome. She wanted to ask him out for quite a while now, but being as young as they were, the teen dating-scene was a new thing that had just sprung up in the last year or so. She thought she wasn't pretty enough for someone like Tsume and so she never made the first move, nor was she _supposed _to—she _was_ the girl after all. But watching all her friends obtain boyfriends had taken its toll on her ego. Boys had shown interest in her, but she wanted _Tsume's_ attention. Five years of friendship had proven him a worthy candidate. There was even a time when she _knew_ he was going to hug her, but then he didn't.

She figured he just didn't like her like that, which hurt. She would never have her 'dream boy', though he continued to appear on the steps of her family's shrine like a taunting mirage. Sometimes he'd show up with baseball mitts or a movie or a cake that his mother had baked. One time, he showed up with flowers and a teddy bear when Kagome's mother took them to the school dance. He looked so handsome in his black slacks and blue oxford. They were eleven then, and last year he didn't take her to the annual school dance. She cried, thinking he found some other girl he'd rather take, but then he called and said it was because of a baseball game and apologized. Her hope escalated; at least he called.

A few weeks ago rumors sprung to life and spread like a fire, saying that Tsume had a crush on her. Her heart _soared_. Finally, he would ask her out and she'd have a boyfriend that she liked _so _much. She found him after school that day, like every other day, and they walked home together. She waited, smile unabashed, for him to ask her to be his. But, he didn't. They stopped in front of the shrine steps—those horrible, steep, never ending steps—and he looked at her with those beautiful honey-glazed eyes. He told her his family was moving away.

Her crush had succeeded in its namesake. Her heart was shattered.

They avoided each other like the plague since then, and now as her heart raced with accelerated propelling, she wished she hadn't reacted like she did. They had precious little time left and they squandered it. She was _going_ to kiss him farewell, but she was _so_ nervous. She wanted her first kiss to be with Tsume; it would be _her_ goodbye to him and a fitting memory for the both of them.

She turned into the steep driveway that led to the blue two-story house and jumped off her bike in much the same manner as she mounted it. She ran as the bike fell haplessly to the ground, as though nothing had separated her feet from the ground in the first place.

She saw him instantly, sitting on the grass, brown-clad men carrying boxes to a yellow truck behind him. His eyes darted up from the grass and he stared dispassionately at her as she ran to him. She had hoped he'd run to meet her. That would have been romantic, but of course, he didn't.

She stopped in front of him panting, sweat forming at her hairline. She suddenly wished she hadn't hurried like she did since she obviously made it in plenty of time to see him off. Now she was sweaty and stinky, which was not a good thing when a first kiss was involved.

"Kagome?" He stood then, his height causing Kagome to reflexively look up.

"I-I," she stuttered, cursing her malfunctioning body, "wanted to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry," he said, diverting his eyes to the movers.

"Sorry?"

"I haven't been a good friend since," he drew a long breath, "since I told you I was moving."

"Me neither."

"You wanna take a walk?"

"Yeah."

They walked along the slow trafficked road and talked about everything. They reminisced about their classes and crazy teachers and gossiping peers. They remembered trips to the ice cream parlor and outings to malls with their shop-crazed mothers. They recalled barbecues and birthday parties and Friday night movies. Kagome told him how much she loved to watch him play ball and Tsume told her how much he loved to watch her make oden. Kagome told him she loved his sense of humor. Tsume told her he loved her sparkle. The moment was priceless, a picturesque memory in the making.

When they returned to his empty house, his mother called to him, telling him they'd be leaving soon. The movers had already left with the trucks. There was little time left and Kagome thought she would cry.

"I'm going to miss you, Kagome."

"I'll miss you too." A tear slipped and he wiped it away, the scene becoming much harder and fittingly dramatic.

"I hope we meet again. But I'll have my memories of you to keep me company. I'll remember you teasing your brother and drooling in your sleep. I'll remember you selecting a movie at the video store like it's a science and carefully constructing the perfect sundae."

She laughed a bittersweet laugh. It was so honest and heartfelt and so sad because _he_ would be gone. Even if they did meet again, they'd be all grown up and different—neither one present to witness or influence the changes.

"Who will walk me home after school?" she asked, more tears falling as the reality of it all begun to set its anchor.

He swept his hand under her eyes, taking on her tears, and brushed his other hand through her hair, all the while smiling. He took off his cap, his _favorite_ cap, and placed it on her head, pushing down on the lid to secure it over her thick hair.

"Goodbye, Kagome. You've always been my best friend. I'll keep in touch, okay?"

She nodded, thinking he would hug her then. His body loomed close and he didn't move, like he was stilled in place by some unknown force. She looked into his eyes and had no idea what he was thinking. Then he moved—_away _from her, never looking back.

She wanted to run after him and turn him around with a firm pull of his shoulder. She would kiss him and hug him senseless, forever reminding him of what he meant to her despite her overwhelming shyness and floundering determination. What she _really_ wanted was for _him _to kiss _her_, but that wasn't going to happen. The memory wouldn't be perfect without his lead. So she stilled, allowing her hesitation to succeed this time around.

"Goodbye, Tsume," she whispered.

And so it was that she took a page from his book and did nothing.

_xxx_

That moment should have been perfect and it would have been had she kissed him, but the reality of the situation was that she wanted _him _to kiss _her_. He didn't, though, and she couldn't find the courage to do it herself. She even set the conditions for him, since it was only natural for the _guy_ to make the first move, and Tsume definitely knew that—he wasn't dense by any means. The first kiss of a young girl's life is supposed to be special after all.

Officially, Tsume was way more responsible than she for ruining _that_ moment. Just like Sesshoumaru was completely at fault for ruining their heartfelt moment.

She embraced him on impulse because she could _see_ how much he was feeling in that moment and it touched her empathetic side, stirring her into action. And the bastard hugged her back only to stand abruptly, causing her face to plummet into the ground, telling her not to waste her sympathy on him. What the hell was _that_ all about?

It must be her destiny, she decided, for every man that entered her life to ruin otherwise beautiful moments. Well, except Hojou, but then again, they never had anything remotely close to what she would call a 'beautiful moment.' Tsume didn't kiss her or even _hug her_ upon their final goodbye. Inuyasha was the first man to take the initiative to embrace her and then he wasted no time in pushing her down the well, while snagging her jewel shards, thusly eradicating any sentimentality that could have otherwise been derived from the situation. He hugged her again when Shippou allowed her to return, but anger that _he _had incited wouldn't allow for the moment to be special. Inuyasha was also her first kiss, no thanks to Tsume, but at least _Inuyasha kissed her_! On the upside, at least Tsume wouldn't have called her Kikyou after kissing her. If not for the fact that he didn't even know Kikyou, nor did she at the time, then for the simple fact that _she_ was the only woman in his life—if you discount his mother of course.

But Inuyasha was definitely her first true love, whereas Tsume was more of a best friend crossing over into the potential love category, not to mention how young she was then. So maybe Inuyasha was the best fit for the famous, or rather infamous in her case, first kiss. This she knew since the incident at the god tree; Tsume never caused her such internal frays, as did Inuyasha. But Inuyasha was doomed to failure from the start. She never should've messed with a man who couldn't get over his ex, that was for sure.

Then Sesshoumaru dismissed her beautifully symbolic hug as though it was nothing short of insignificant and ultimately unnecessary. He had called it a waste.

She was a bit peeved over eating dirt, compliments of Sesshoumaru, but she simply couldn't understand why hugs were so unimportant to them. An embrace was a simple action, but the intent behind it was so meaningful. It was a nice gesture to be physically reminded that someone cares and it was _especially_ important if no one was there to physically remind you that you're loved.

Oh no. The cat's out of the bag now.

Anything and everything that had to do with physicality was violently thwarted from her mind unless it had to do with fighting demons. Kagome was well aware of the fact that she was _very _different from most people her age. She was a nineteen-year-old virgin whose short list of sexual experiences, if you could even call them that, constituted a brutal hug and a searing kiss—all of which, mind you, ended in terrible disappointment. _Good god_ was she boring!

The last two years had been the worst of all. Not only were reminders all around her in modern-day Tokyo, but her first love was constantly around her, day and _night_, in the feudal area, furthering her frustration. She knew that promiscuity was bad, but she had come to discover that abstinence was equally as bad. Hormones demanded satisfaction and when left wanton, they'd frustrate the living hell out of you and make damn well sure that you'd lose control of your own body on occasion.

For instance, a few weeks ago she rented an English movie about political kidnappings. It was definitely a foreign concept and so she rented it out of intrigue. Well, the main character was _hot_ in that rugged, 'I-will-rut-your-brains-out' kind of way. He took a swim and she was _flustered_. As if that alone wasn't bad enough, later in the movie he, sporting a tight black tank top, muscled arms exposed, pushed the blonde woman against a wall and _kissed_ the living hell out of her! It was so passionate and sexy in all the right ways that she found herself so hot that she was sweating. She was, may the gods forgive, _wet_. It was _so_ embarrassing and from a freaking kiss! She was way too hard up for some physical contact with the opposite sex. She should have been appalled considering the over-sexed, over-masculine main character was going to save the blonde's _husband_ out of all people, but she wasn't. Instead, she wished she was that blonde.

Speaking of which, why on earth were people expected to remain celibate until marriage anyhow? She supposed way back when it wasn't so bad because people married at age fourteen and even fifty years ago they seemed to marry no later than eighteen or nineteen. Now, most people didn't even get married until their late twenties and sometimes they didn't tie the knot until after thirty! She now believed that such ideals were virtually impossible to achieve by choice. It all went to show that hormones were a force that refused to be ignored. They were too damn powerful, overtaking your body even when your mind rebuked them. They left you powerless and at the mercy of their whims. It was simply unfair.

Like right now, her mind was screaming for these thoughts to stop, knowing what reactions they would subconsciously bring, but her body was already sent over the edge with want. Her skin felt tingly and her muscles ached with heated blood. Simply remembering that hot scene, from a movie no less, reminded her body of what it _needed_ and was most definitely _not getting_.

This was bad; she felt like a silly, horny little schoolgirl. Perhaps that was the problem. Most people start satisfying these natural human desires at age sixteen or seventeen, but she was past that age and had yet to even indulge her body with heavy petting, let alone sexual intercourse. When did she become so desperate and needy? There was no telling when, but the repercussions of celibacy had certainly taken their toll and she hoped that she wouldn't end up doing something stupid.

And by stupid she meant something akin to what had happened to Ayumi. Ayumi was the oldest of her former high school posse and she was a pretty, kind girl, but she was always so absorbed in her studies that she never really paid much heed to her social life. When Ayumi turned eighteen, she started to panic. She thought she was the only virgin left in their class, though she didn't realize Kagome had the same problem. Apparently everyone assumed that Kagome had given it up to her ex-'violence-crazed' boyfriend, a.k.a. Inuyasha. That theory was accepted because they knew Inuyasha was older and secluded, and why else would such a low-life stick around with a giddy high school girl unless she was putting out? Kagome didn't have the energy or the know-how to put an end to that nonsense, so she simply let it die. If she had known what Ayumi would do, then maybe she would've opened her mouth.

Ayumi went club-crazy, trying to find the perfect guy before college came around where she might succumb to a drunken one-night-stand, thus ruining that magical 'first time,' kind of like that over-rated first kiss. Every weekend, after homework of course, she would go out hoping to snag a boyfriend. Being Ayumi, she figured guys her own age wouldn't be into a smart girl like her, so she went after the older, more sophisticated man. She gave into the first one that told her she was beautiful. She never heard from him again. Kagome didn't want to end up like that. Kagome wasn't naïve enough to think that her first time would be some mind-blowing experience. The sex itself would probably be horrible and awkward, so what really mattered was the person. It should be someone you love or at least care for on a profound level. Knowing that her first time was shared with someone like that would make it special.

But the body was a fickle thing that made powerful demands. Demands that someone like the ever-willful Ayumi couldn't ignore and so Kagome feared that she too might prove inadequate to ward off her body's calling.

She was hot now, too hot and so a cold dip in the river was a must. As she stood, uncomfortably, thanks to a vivid imagination's embodiment in her panties, she felt his presence. She scrambled for her bag and immediately lit a match, and a few more thereafter for good measure. Kagome's 'horn-dog' issues had followed her into this era, which happened to be accompanied by a fine-tuned, but terribly unwanted nose, courtesy of Inuyasha. Apparently arousal, like all natural bodily functions, came with a strong scent not lost to those of the canine persuasion. She recalled one otherwise beautiful evening where she, unwillingly of course, partook in a graphic dream. She woke to a sniffing Inuyasha, nose glued to her stomach while asking her the most dreadful questions. But the funny part was that he had absolutely no idea what that smell was! Even when he smelt it again and again, he still remained blissfully clueless—partly due to a rather embarrassed Kagome that refused to have her privacy invaded. Though she speculated that Miroku had some leads.

But there stood Sesshoumaru, a comfortable distance away and unfortunately, if not ironically, sniffing the air as though it was the most curious thing he had come across in years, which may in fact be true. However, something in the back of her mind told her that Sesshoumaru might not be as wonderfully ignorant as his noisy half-brother, hence the match trick, which she had thought of quite some time ago to thwart Inuyasha's sharp nose and humiliating questions. Apparently, Inuyasha was unfamiliar with that particular scent, which only exasperated her. Inuyasha had obviously remained celibate as had she, considering Kikyou was his only former love interest and as far as she could tell the relationship never made it that far, but how on earth did he deal with these…these feelings? He had been around much longer than she and yet he seemed far detached from his more primal urges. It was exasperating, therefore, in the sense that something must be wrong with her, or maybe _not_ when taking into account observations from her own era. Maybe there was something wrong with Inuyasha.

But Sesshoumaru was a different story. Did he even have sexual urges? He was male after all; but then again, his brother was an avid example of abstinence. She felt confident that Sesshoumaru probably had sex on the mind every now and then, but was perfectly capable of controlling deviant thoughts of any kind, which could be inferred from his overall demeanor that screamed _control freak_. He seemed _experienced_ though, which made her, much to her own horror, pretty damn sure he knew a thing or two about arousal.

She rummaged through her bag a bit, intending to act as though he wasn't there so that maybe any comments on his part would be abandoned. At the very least, ignoring him might buy her some time to get over her initial embarrassment at having been caught in such a state. She figured anything her mother would disapprove of was something she shouldn't be thinking about, and she was sure her mother would most definitely dislike this train of thought. To make matters worse, Sesshoumaru had the ability to decipher the raunchiness consuming her mind and hence it was doubly worse for thinking of such things. Strike one—mother wouldn't like it; strike two—she got caught. The proverbial strike three would've occurred had her mother been the one to catch her.

"What are you doing?"

It had been so long since he first arrived onto the crime scene that she had nearly forgotten he was there. And what did he mean exactly? _Could he tell?_

"Huh?" was her brilliant response.

He looked as stoic as ever, though that strange far-away look in his eyes struck an awkward chord on her nerves, making her suspect that he _knew_ what was going on.

"You lit those 'matches' of yours and seemed to have failed at producing a fire. Do you always act so purposelessly?"

Sometimes he was _too _calculating. "Oh, yeah, I must have lost my train of thought." _That was a good cover-up…_

He narrowed his eyes quite perceptively, which was unlike him. Was that a sign? It was an obvious deviance from normally expected Sesshoumaru behavior. Maybe he wanted her to _know _that he _knew_ what she didn't _want_ him to know. Oh no, this circular line of thinking was fruitless and only served to make her realize that she was being just a wee bit paranoid.

"Perhaps your actions are then more oblivious than purposeless."

He proceeded to sit and Kagome was thankful that her initial embarrassment had morphed into a smidgen of fury.

"_Excuse me_?"

"I do realize you are hard of hearing, but I do feel I was quite clear."

He was antagonizing her, _again_. The sadistic bastard was having fun at _her_ expense. She opened her mouth to retort, but he beat her to the punch.

"Perhaps I _wasn't_ clear enough. Your actions still remained purposeless despite your oblivion."

"Listen here, you arrogant jerk!" she yelled, hoping the 'inconsiderate' volume of her voice would piss him off. "I don't know _who_ you think you are, but you're one to talk Mr. Daydreamer! You're constantly out of it and so please don't mind me if I take the same vacation from reality once in a while!"

He was frowning, with his eyes. "What _were_ you doing before I arrived?"

She froze, not expecting him to be so direct. "W-what do you mean?"

He sighed. "The atmosphere is…_different_…somehow. You are hiding something." Sharp eyes turned on her, boring into her pupils and delving into her mind as though searching for something—a sign that she was _lying_. _Just like Inuyasha, but harsher—harder to evade…_

"I was just thinking," she said, dropping her gaze, avoiding his eyes.

He was quiet for a while as she stood there; faintly realizing the sun was setting. How long had she been standing there and how long had he been gone in the first place? She could swear it was morning when she jumped into the well.

"I have realized for some time now that I am old, very old," he said softly, his smooth inflections and rich tones lulling her into a daze as she listened. "Much of my life is a blur and I know it is as such since many of my days have been dull and spent doing nothing of significance. What else could be expected from such an expansive amount of time? But that fact serves to fuel a creative curiosity within me since not much of interest comes along regularly."

Where was he going with this? She subconsciously leaned toward him as she sunk to the ground, absorbed by his words since they were few and far between.

"You, however, have proven to be quite a curiosity."

Was that a compliment? She didn't know, he said it so matter-of-factly. Then he threw an object at her feet, her eyes slowly transferring the visual data to her brain, which processed the information with lethargic dread.

She gulped, preparing herself for the possibilities to come.

**x x x**

_xxx_

He ran—he had been doing a lot of that lately. Kazuma was infuriating, but that personality flaw didn't discount the fact that the demon knew what he was talking about. He had been training so hard and his rapidly accelerating skills had made him confident, a little _too_ confident. He felt ready to spar, but his uncle disagreed. How could Kazuma, who had been personally training him, have so little faith in his abilities? It made him angry and all the more fervent about proving his capabilities. He demanded a sparring partner and Kazuma obliged, then asking him if he wanted one to go easy on him. Sesshoumaru, of course, said no, for such a thing would be dishonorable and an inaccurate assessment of his strength.

So then the unexpected happened—Kazuma named himself as his opponent. He was humiliated and beaten until he was bloodied and unconscious. When he woke, he was chained in the dungeon, feet and hands bound. Kazuma returned some time later and whipped him. He asked his uncle why and his reply was so true that he felt sickened with his own stupidity. His uncle was always so serious and so his answer was the expected catchall of his responses—a _lesson_. This lesson being what _could_ occur were he to take on an enemy he was not prepared to fight. Kazuma was apparently an advocate of the 'hands-on' teaching approach.

When he was allowed to heal, Kazuma informed him that his training would consist of nothing but conditioning for the following week since he insisted on disregarding his teacher's advice. Sesshoumaru was furious and did the only thing he could—he ran, away from his problems and away from his uncle—if only for a little while.

He embraced the darkness and raced the wind, until he relented to a stream's lullaby in the deep of the forest—or at least what he assumed to be the heart of the forest.

He smelt her before he saw or heard her, which was not unusual of his species. Her scent was foreign, but he knew it to be human. It reminded him of frostbitten berries—earthy and real. He found he liked it. His eyes continued to trace the glistening reflections of moonlight on the water's surface, changing ever so subtly with lazy ripples.

He heard her stop nearby, a gasp of surprise floating to his ears, much like the way he perceived the light moving across the pool before him. He looked at her then from over his shoulder, taken aback by the sight.

The moonlight captured the soft curves of her human face and her eyes sparkled darkly in the dim light. She appeared to him a creature of myth, something so extraordinary that it was well worth the time to inspect. She was exceptionally beautiful for a mortal and her humanity made her exotic to his young eyes. He had never before seen a human he considered lovely, nor had he seen many humans for that matter, and he silently wondered if the dark was playing tricks on his eyes, but then again his eyes were sharp even on the blackest of nights.

"I-I'm sorry," she whispered, clearly as captivated as he. Her voice was soft and sweet with youth and he found he liked her voice as much as her scent.

"What for?" He wanted to hear her speak again.

"For disturbing you." He could sense her fear building. She must have realized what he was.

"You have not." He liked her scent better when she was curious and unafraid.

"Oh." She made move to leave.

"Why are you alone in the forest?" He stalled her and her fear spiked.

"I-I was lost."

"Have you found your way?"

"Do," she began, her voice slightly shaking, "do you mean me harm?"

Her trepidation was intense and he began to wonder about her all the more. "What do you think of me?" He was curious as to how she would answer such a cryptic question.

"That is a moot question. I don't even know you."

"True enough. So, have you found your way?" Her turned fully to her then and noticed her subconsciously step back.

"W-why do you want to know?" She took another step back.

"Because the nearest human village is in the opposite direction. You humans have a very poor sense of direction, do you not?"

"I-I suppose."

She stuttered again. Her fear was overdone and he found that it displeased him. He had had enough of being displeased as of late.

"Why do you fear me?"

She didn't hesitate to respond. "I know what those marks on your face mean. A powerful demon king rules his kind near my village. I know how easily you could kill me."

"But I have not killed you, nor made any indication that I would."

"That doesn't mean you don't like to play with your prey first." She gulped and stepped back again.

"I am not the demon king you speak of," he said slowly, his eyes penetrating hers, pinning her to the spot.

"But you are a demon."

"Yes."

"And that is why I'm afraid."

"How does it feel to live in fear?" he asked dangerously low, his feet moving toward her on their own accord. She stiffened as he stalked.

"Not good," she said, her eyes tearing as she looked to the ground, slowly closing those hauntingly dark eyes. He stopped directly in front of her, so close he could feel her breath on his chest. Her eyes tightened as she resigned herself to his will; her silent submission delightfully pleasing to him—it was respectful acknowledgement of his position _over_ her. He lifted her hand and her face lowered even more. He turned it over in his own, so small, so delicate. He ran his claw gently across her open palm, blood beading lightly at the surface.

"Such frailty," he whispered and her eyes cracked open, half-mast, daring a look at him from under thick lashes. "Curious."

He brought her upturned hand to his lips and drug his tongue across the smooth skin, sealing the minute breakage almost instantly. She stared at him this time, head upright and eyes wide.

"I am Sesshoumaru, son of the demon king you spoke of." He lowered her hand and pulled her along a short distance in the direction from which she came, slowly releasing her fingers, allowing the digits to drag lazily along his own. He slid into place ahead of her and stopped when he realized she wasn't following. "Come. I will take you to your village."

"_Why_?"

He looked at her again from over his shoulder, his eyes still wishing to take in the rare beauty behind him. "Because a creature of such frailty and fear should not wander aimlessly through the woods in the heart of the night. Do not worry. I will ensure your safety."

With words of freely offered protection, her fear melted away, all remnants of its former presence erased with the passing scents of grass and wood.

"My name," she began uneasily, "my name is Hitomi."

"Hitomi," he repeated with ease, allowing the syllables to burn into his memory.

He led the human girl to her village and watched as she walked the rest of the way, until satisfied that she had returned safely. With curiosity firmly set, Sesshoumaru returned home to sleep his last night of mortal oblivion, for he was about to embark on a journey into the world of humanity, which would later prove to be one of the most encompassing woes of his existence.

_xxx_

He realized soon after Kagome had embraced him that he didn't like to be touched. The gesture was innocent and friendly, but the position was intimate, making him uncomfortable. His father had rarely touched him and when he did it felt superficial at best. When his uncle had touched him it was to induce bodily harm, for training purposes of course. He hated his uncle's treatment of him, but had to admit, reluctantly of course, that Kazuma's methods were quite effective.

When Hitomi had touched him flames singed his skin only to heat his blood, deepening his searing want. Desire was a disgusting thing, for it implied a degree of desperation in that he could not obtain what he wanted. It made him feel a smidgen of powerlessness, which could have been eradicated had he not valued honor the way he did. The powerful can force their will upon others and so want would be a deceased thing indeed. He could have forced Hitomi to do as he wished, but that would have been a dishonorable deed that one such as he could not lower himself to do.

He could not yet remember everything, but he knew that Kazuma despised his budding relationship with a mortal and even warned him of the repercussions. He did not listen and Hitomi broke his heart. She could never come to terms with his claws.

A brief image of white kimonos and tipped sake flasks came to mind, but vanished as a ghost of a hand gently grasped his shoulder. He immediately looked behind him and saw nothing. A vivid memory that felt _so_ real, perhaps it was because that particular memory was very important to him.

He laid back on the grass, willing the fleeting memory to return so he may clamp it down and examine it to the fullest. He had come to realize that despite his desire for some semblance of seclusion throughout much of his life, it still remained true that people made his memories.

His father's turning back and booming voice. He remembered his father brandishing a magical blade with swift proficiency. His uncle's menacing glares and wise words. He remembered his uncle giving him his first birthday present, bequeathed with a rare smile. Hitomi's bashful smile and haunting eyes. He remembered kissing her under the stars, with promises of celestial grandeur.

People were the things memories were made of.

He shifted uncomfortably on the grass; finally realizing something hard was pressing into his back. He sat up and pulled the object from under him. It was a book, the one he had taken from Kagome to alleviate his boredom. He was nearly finished with it, which was odd. He remembered countless times he sat at a desk with a book, flickering candlelight splayed out on old, polished wood. He recalled reclining against a tree in an open field, reading one of the endless volumes his uncle had required of him. Kazuma left no venue open and made sure that Sesshoumaru was educated in all facets of life.

But never had it taken him so long to read a book. The language was Japanese, but it was different, almost like a foreign dialect. The concepts were new to him and _almost _difficult for him to grasp. He knew currency was vital to life, but this book put a whole new spin on economics and how it intertwined with everyday life. It felt foreign, _too foreign_, to the point where it felt unnatural.

He flipped the flimsy cover open and turned the first page that happened to be blank. He wondered who the author was and if the name was Japanese since everything about the book felt foreign. It wasn't and he then wondered how Kagome could get a hold of something like this. The name was _very_ foreign and when taking into account the strange dialect of the words and the otherworldly print and diagrams, not to mention the overall structure of the book, Sesshoumaru became _suspicious_.

He turned another page and scanned over the tiny, seemingly useless and long-winded print. He froze with widened eyes, repeating the words over and over in his head.

Copyright © 2004. Printed in the United States of America.

He wondered what _copyright_ meant and felt confident that he'd never seen such a thing in a book before. That was the year the book was printed, was it not? His eyes scourged the text, making sure he was right. He felt confident in his interpretation considering several other similar dates were listed off as previous editions of the same text. 1999, 2001 and 2003, making this one the fourth edition as the title page stated. His mind nearly caved in on itself as he scurried about for the year as he knew it. He had been alive so long that the years didn't stand out as single entities, but rather as decades and centuries. Though he didn't know the exact year, or century for that matter, he knew that this book was incredibly out of place. Perhaps because it was foreign, but that deduction seemed lacking and ultimately incorrect. This book felt far removed from this _time_…

Why did it take him so long to uncover this? Her clothes, her mannerisms, her strange little gadgets and smelly concoctions all stowed away in that obnoxiously big yellow bag—things far too advanced to be from this world. He knew she was from this world, though, especially since her 'home' was easily accessible, and so it left the undeniable conclusion that Kagome came from the future of this world, where advanced knowledge led to advanced products, hence the conveniences to which she was accustomed. Why didn't he notice this sooner? Well, he _really_ didn't know her that well and the words in the book _had _captivated him and challenged his understanding, so it was reasonable that he overlooked these clues. But really, was it possible? Did Kagome come from the future? If so, how did she achieve such a monumental task?

Again, a green-misted memory tugged at the black subconscious of his mind, but he was too muddled to decipher its presence or paramount meaning. But, he did know one thing—the curiosity named Kagome was not a new one.

**x x x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 11:**

He watched as she stared silently, her anxiety personified with shallow breaths and a faltering composure. He felt even more confident that his initial theory was correct. He knew he could be wrong since time, though inescapable by nature, had eluded him in meaning. He _really_ wasn't sure what year or even century they inhabited in this place and time, nor the exact meanings of all those numbers and adjoining phrases. But the back of his mind lit from its previous darkness and whispered in his mind's ear that she did not belong in _this time_.

"Where did you get that?" she finally asked with great unease, the tinge of fear shading the air a dark gray.

"I took it," he said plainly.

"Without permission?" she asked weakly. He swore he could feel her anger rising like the tide at that moment—a total upheaval of her previous uncertainty. Were her feelings always so turbulent and at odds with each other? "You _stole_ it!" she yelled, finger pointed at him in accusation. He waited patiently for her other hand to fist at her side. He was not disappointed.

"I merely _borrowed_ it," he said calmly.

"Yeah, right. Do you always _borrow_ things without asking? Hey! You went through my bag!" Her face was burning, embarrassment dulling the sharp edge of fury.

"You digress," he said sternly, then paused to ensure the closure of this distraction. "Do not worry, I have not invaded your privacy." The blush started to die. "Do you wish to explain or should I start sharing my theories?" he asked slowly, allowing each syllable to sink to a sufficient depth, anchoring within her chaotic mind.

"Well," she said, nervousness fighting for control as she plucked haphazardly at the grass, "economics wasn't really my subject, so please _do_ share."

"That's not what I'm speaking of," he replied lazily. A blade bent languidly between her fingers, not yet ready to break though she willed it so.

"What do you _think_ you know?" she asked strangely, apparently trying to side step the inevitable course of the conversation. His certainty only solidified in response, though he realized she was being difficult, _again_. He sighed; she was choosing the long route. He would comply, for he was intent on her cooperation.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I have my ideas. Tell me what a _copyright_ is, Kagome."

She paused for a moment, sifting through her cloudy mind for the most appropriate answer. It was a good sign. If she were to be uncooperative, she would have exploded in outrage by now.

"A law to protect intellectual property."

"_Intellectual property_?" he repeated. The curiosity dripped from his voice and he didn't care, it was such an interesting phrase and completely unknown to him. "I have never known of such laws. Do humans care a great deal for this type of property?"

"Well, yeah. Ideas are important to society and it's not fair to steal them from others."

She stopped plucking the grass, worry slowly etching across her face. She was not comfortable with direct confrontations, this he knew, unless she was somehow _justified_ in her actions, or at least in her mind. Then her righteous fury would take over, but not this time—not when she was hiding something and _knew_ it. Perhaps he knew her better than he thought and thus it may be advantageous to use that same righteous fury against her. That way he would catch her off-guard in her weak defense, hence prompting her to voluntarily comply with his wishes. Luckily, tactical eloquence was something he had fine-tuned long ago.

"The world is on fire, Kagome. Humans slay each other and destroy entire villages while worthless shoguns fight for power. Where is the time for ideas and who would even bother to protect something as useless as _intellectual property _when one is vying for physical property on which to grow crops? Food and survival are priorities, not books, especially when most humans cannot even read or write in the first place."

Her hands balled into fists, knuckles paling in indignation. That fury was flaring to life.

"Maybe that's true now, but it won't always be like that! I know what you think of humans, but we get better and stop all the senseless kill—"

She stared at him, mouth agape and eyes empty. He leveled his own gaze upon her, not even sure if she could see him.

"How did you find out?" she asked softly, empty eyes refocusing and drooping, her fingers finding the grass again.

"Everything about you is foreign to me. You are different from the villagers as well, so it was not a human discrepancy. An old seamstress did not even recognize the fabric of your bathing suit, which I knew not to be demon skin as she had speculated."

"My bathing suit? The village?" Her mind was too hazed to think properly. She was displeased with his knowledge. He couldn't help but wonder why. Was it distrust?

"I left it there with her. Perhaps we can retrieve it tomorrow. But for now, I wish to speak with you."

She stared at the green blades with open fingers.

"You are foreign and Japanese simultaneously. How can that be? Perhaps your origins are to blame, correct? But I recall traveling all throughout Japan and the mainland and have yet to come across anything akin to _you_."

"How did my book convince you otherwise? It all could have been magic you know." Her idle fingers found the grass again.

"I am not that naïve. Perhaps a local villager who has never wandered past the next town over would believe something like that, but not me. _I am too old_." She stopped her futile attempt to pluck the grass from the earth and stared at him fully. She was biting her lower lip now. "As for your question, the book had a number of dates on it, or at least what I presumed to be dates. I did acknowledge the fact that I could be wrong. It seemed off, though I am not accustomed to keeping track of the centuries like you humans. I am, however, not ignorant of your ways."

"But there are so many dates? How did that not confuse you?"

"Your underestimation of my intelligence is rather insulting. The list of dates was a factor, but not the only influential one. The place where it was printed was foreign as well as the author's name. Tell me, how could a human girl come to possess a foreign book, from a place I have never _even_ heard of, in her native tongue about advanced concepts? It is too unlikely, for in all my years I have yet to see such a book. The binding is unique and the print is perfect and the diagrams are colored. The paper is even glossy. Doesn't it strike you as a little…_suspicious_?"

"Yes," she whispered; her eyes once again vacant, as though she were too exhausted to think on it anymore. "You figured me out from a _book_? That's it! No more studying in the feudal era!" She crossed her arms over her chest in defiance, her previous shock uprooted by frustration.

"Kagome, most people here cannot read. So do not worry. And the fact that you could read in the first place should have alerted me to this truth sooner, but unfortunately my mind has been a bit preoccupied."

"You are such a jerk," she said through clenched teeth, her breathing growing heavy. He recognized the sting of salt and realized she was about to cry—she was _very _upset. "You find out where I'm from and suddenly you want to talk to me."

How did she live like this? All these differing emotions, striking in their reality and heavy in their depth were discombobulating. Surely her body should collapse from such a mental onslaught, but then again, her mind should have already succumbed to its disarray. Maybe it had. Maybe she was crazy.

"Talking holds no significance if it has no purpose. You would do well to learn that."

"_Well_?" she snapped. She was such an interesting creature. No mood lasted long and precedence of her behavior was short-lived indeed, making its recognition seem rather pointless. How did she come to be this way? "What do you want to know?"

"You are uncomfortable with my knowledge of this. Why?" This was something he really wanted to know. It seemed important somehow.

She huffed, exasperation already setting in—_another_ mood swing. "Come on, Sesshoumaru. I'm pretty uncomfortable with anything that has to do with you because _I _don't know you! I don't know how you'll use this information." Her hand was twitching; it desired the grass between its fingers again.

"You have reason for this distrust?" He waited and she nodded. He was curious about her and this future she came from, but he would not resort to dishonorable tactics as a means to sate his curiosity. He needed to make her more comfortable and he knew exactly how to do it—it hadn't failed him thus far. If she was such a fan of talking, then he would appease her with her own methods.

"I wish to learn about your place of origin and how you have traversed backwards into time. I have always viewed time as a linear thing and so your presence in this particular timeline intrigues me. I mean you no malice. However, you apparently have reasons to withhold this from me. So I suggest we come to terms."

"Terms?" she repeated hollowly.

"Yes. You say you do not know me and that seems to bother you. Let us sate one another's curiosities civilly. We shall…talk. Agreed?"

She was initially shocked at his suggestion that they speak at length as though they were friends, but then she became serious and thought on it for a minute.

"I agree, but on one condition," she said carefully. She looked at the smooth green blades as he waited, darkness settling behind her. "I will never tell you how I come here, but I will let you in on the circumstances of my arrival."

"So you are able to cross back and forth?"

"Do you agree?"

"I agree."

"Good. And yes, I can jump back and forth between this era and mine. My turn!" she said gleefully, eyes blazing.

"This is not a game," he asserted, a reel of frustration pulling at his will as again he readjusted to her change of mood.

"You asked a question so now it's my turn to ask one."

"It was a rhetorical question. Surely, I could have figured that out on my own seeing as how you returned 'home' to take tests. But that is not the point. I feel we should simply speak freely and not limit our discussions as such. Sometimes one question is not enough to thoroughly understand what someone is saying."

"Whatever," she said lamely. "It was still a question with a one-word answer. Guess you should have used that superior intellect to think that one through first." He sighed, mentally questioning that same intellect on its wisdom behind this little bout of appeasement. It was going to backfire; he could already feel the burn.

"Fine, I will grant you this small victory, as dirty as it may be. Apparently you wish to begin this conversation, so by all means, please commence."

"Quit being such a snob!" He scoffed and she exhaled. "I can't think of anything good."

Figures she would be like this. "Perhaps it is a sign from the gods that I should chose the first topic of discussion."

"Shut up about it! Geez, give me a minute to think!"

"You've already had a minute."

"Well, maybe if you shut it I could think! You are so not helping! And here I thought you were patient."

"Patience inevitably wanes. With you in company, its life span has shortened."

She stared at him for a moment, apparently still unaccustomed to his rare jests. She snapped out of it rather quickly and finally spoke. "How old are you exactly?"

"I do not know."

"Well we're gonna talk about _you_ first so you had better come up with a roundabout figure!"

A roundabout figure? He had to think this one through, not even sure if he had enough memories to adequately estimate.

The days became weeks and the weeks drew into months and the months morphed into years. Before he knew it, a century had past. After that first one, the rest followed even faster. He remembered wandering off as a child and found himself on a human burial ground. What seemed like a few years later, that same graveyard was a relic. New tombs were littered about and the ones he recalled from before were decaying away. How_ long _had it been?

The sun's rising and setting were dull indeed. He had seen it repeat itself too many times to count. The blooming of cherry blossoms had lost its appeal so long ago that he couldn't even remember when. Majestic scenery went by unnoticed as time passed and autumn was so brief that he forgot summer had already ended and winter was setting in. The snow was insignificant as was most else in the world around him, but the snow he found reminiscent for the simple fact that he knew he was born in the dead of winter. However, he could not recall the haunting circumstances of his birth or how long ago it had happened. Infants' memories were too short-lived, though the happenings of his entrance into this world would be a continuous woe to him. He wished he could remember so their words hadn't cut so deeply, because then he could have told them with the certainty granted by first-hand knowledge that it was not his fault.

"_You do know why he always misses your birthday, right?"_

_No._

"_Because that was the day you killed your mother."_

"_This is for me?"_

"_Yes. A gift. Today is your birthday after all."_

"_Oh." He didn't know how to act. He had never received a birthday present before…_

"_Try it on and tell me what you think."_

"_Now?"_

"_I suppose it matters not."_

_It was armor. It looked old, but a perfect fit._

"_Where did it come from?"_

"_It was my first set of battle armor. My father gave it to me. Now I give it to you."_

"_Thank you."_

"_No need. It belongs in our family."_

Kazuma never let him forget anything, though his uncle's indifferent attitude toward anything and everything seemed to speed the years' passing. For the most part, nothing was of significance and so Sesshoumaru lived in eternal monotony, the decades mounting unnoticed until he couldn't even remember his age. Kazuma had said such things were natural for those who lived so long and Sesshoumaru was inclined to agree.

"I am at least three centuries old, perhaps four. I had lost count, long ago."

"Wow. You just look so young. About twenty-five I suppose, for a human that is."

He didn't acknowledge her meaningless words, again doubting his decision to freely speak with her. He didn't like doing things without a good reason and he was sure he could get information out of her some other way. But that would probably involve threats since her reluctance to speak about her origins was quite adamant and he had already vowed that he would not resort to such methods. This, however, was going to be dull. At least while she was leading the conversation.

"What was your favorite toy when you were little?" she asked gleefully. "Did you even play with toys?"

What a ridiculous thing to ask. This was becoming more of a waste of time by the second, but he just had to keep reminding himself that this was payment for his answers. After all, she couldn't go on forev—

He saw a red top spinning in his memory's eye and a battered wooden bokken leaning against a wall, an unused ball, brown, but not dirty, resting beneath it.

"Children would not play with me," he said hollowly, his voice faint, as though it was vanishing before leaving his mouth.

"What?"

"I was the lord's son. I don't think it was because they feared me so much as they feared my title. I watched from afar as the servants' children played ball. I still do not know how the game is played."

"How sad."

"No. It was simply…natural. My father gave me a bokken then. I practiced nonstop hoping to impress him."

"Did it work?" she asked, dare he say, _hopefully_.

"He didn't seem to notice. But my uncle thought it foolish of him to let me use a practice tool as a plaything. He was quick to take it from my hands. Training begins with conditioning after all," he supplied airily, his legs subconsciously twitching.

"Will you tell me about him? Your uncle?"

He looked at her then, really looked at her. She was leaning toward him with keen interest plastered across her face and her eyes were warm, seemingly inviting. She was not one to judge. She was one to sympathize. He didn't want her sympathy. Then again, she was also an empathizer and he suddenly felt a sense of relief, knowing that someone _wanted_ to listen. He wasn't giving orders or guarantees of death, but rather his life. His life was his memories and he had lost them once. And someone wanted to help him find them—his life.

He started speaking before he even realized what he was doing. 

"His name was Kazuma and he raised me. He was direct and callous, never one to squander time on anything insignificant. He was efficient and effective and no one was like him. He was so apathetic that I could never tell when he was feeling or if he was feeling at all. But he did. He taught me many things, but personally, through our interactions, he taught me that the deepest love and most fervent hate are thinner than the width of rice paper."

Kazuma…was always there. So many words and so many moments forever dulled and incased within the glass of time.

"_She would rather curse the very ground you walk on than love you."_

_He wanted to strike him then, but he knew better. His uncle's tongue may be sharp, but it also had impeccable aim. Did she love him? He was so angry and so confused and…and… He walked away._

"_Time alleviates all hurt. And time is favorable to you, but not to her. Trust me, it's better this way."_

_He couldn't look at him, choosing instead to watch the tipped flasks of sake, his heart burning with its significance—its finalization. Then he watched them kiss and she smiled, dark eyes sparkling. He turned away then, his seared heart left to simmer until its death. _

"_Power is a necessity for one in your position. I offer it to you. All you have to do is reach out and take it."_

_He took it, all the while wondering where his life would go from here. The path of conquest set, waiting for him to journey to its end and he, a foolish young boy, not yet aware that such a journey never ends._

"_Your father is a fool if he is too blind to see his own son standing before him."_

_He wanted to cry, but warriors don't weep. And he was a warrior now, having been ordained so by the rite of battle. He had finally stood by his father's side and fought, all the while thinking this was to be the turning point in their relationship. They were victorious and his father said he was ashamed. Maybe Kazuma did love him…unlike his father…_

"_It is a consequence of his own inadequacies, not your own. Do not forget that."_

'_But I am his son,' he thought as he looked to his bloodied hands. His father should be here, not Kazuma. He was beginning to think he should have never been born._

"_The embodiment of the circle of life and you destroyed it."_

_It was times like this that Sesshoumaru thought Kazuma hated him. But it was true, as were all things said by Kazuma. _

"_Because you should have been my son."_

His heart skipped a beat as snow-laden woods stained with blood flashed before his eyes.

"Did you love him like a father?"

Green eyes flashing, back rigid and words tense, Kazuma always _saw_ him. A bloodied claw ran through red hair, snow falling quietly in the backdrop.

"I viewed him more as a guide than a father."

Youkai ran, scared for their lives, as two demons preyed on them for the pure thrill of the hunt. The snow bled as he wept inside, solitary, alone, not wanted by the one who should cherish him above all else.

"Did he love you?"

Angry eyes and glittering fangs polluted his vision—emotion, for him, from someone. He was wanted, somehow.

"_Because you should have been my son."_

"I'm not sure."

_xxx_

"You are upset?"

He looked from his uncle's face to the blood caked on his claws. The bodies at his feet were so maimed they were almost unrecognizable as previously living, breathing demons; their blood the only thing left to distinguish them as such. He had done this—butchered them ruthlessly as they tried to flee. The scents of aging blood and putrid acid hung heavy in his lungs, the air becoming harder to inhale. It was all too much. He felt the burning sensation of vomit teetering at the back of his throat. He balled his bloodied fists and willed the sickly substance back into his stomach. Kazuma would be displeased by such an act of weakness.

"Perk up, boy," he said matter-of-factly, no changes in the tone of his voice, no reassurance offered with softened inflections. "Your first hunt was a success."

His first hunt. It was supposed to be with his father since he had come of age. That was tradition and his father was…was just not here.

"Would father be proud?" he asked quietly, his eyes roaming over the destruction inflicted by his own hands.

"I don't see why not," Kazuma said as he nonchalantly ran a clawed hand through his red hair. There was blood on Kazuma's hands as well, though not near the amount on his own, and he didn't seem to care that he spread it through his hair—the crimson liquid blending unnoticeably within his already scarlet-colored locks.

"He should have been here," Sesshoumaru whispered, his voice faint, like a ghost.

His uncle sighed. "You would be past your prime had you waited on him. His position keeps him away. You know that."

"I suppose," he said, crestfallen.

"These _feelings_ for your father are unnecessary and thus a waste of time. You are youkai and strength is your concern, not fatherly love. Have I taught you nothing?" Still no changes in his voice, not even anger found its way through the abyss between his sentimentality and rationality.

"It is my birthday. And he promised this to me." His voice was cold, his breath still managing to embody itself in the frigid air. He would have thought his breath colder than the winter's breeze.

"You have long known he avoids this day. Must I again remind you?"

His eyes shot to his uncle who stared at him dispassionately with pale green eyes—a sickly color in the dim light.

"Did he love her _that_ much? More than me?" He hoped and prayed to the gods he hardly believed in that his uncle would grant him a smidgen of the comfort and reassurance he so desired. He would be left wanting.

"Your father hardly knew your mother. It was an arranged marriage, for political purposes of course. Your father is powerful, as was your mother, but your father reaped all the rewards. He gained land and even more influence as well as a son. My father gave up his rightful lands in the hopes of gaining a powerful descendent through his only daughter, thus transcending the potential power of our clan. This is why I train you as I do. Her gift will not be in vain."

"You loved her?"

"Very much. She was the most beautiful woman to walk these lands. She was sweet and strong. I questioned your father's worthiness of her. But low-and-behold she produced that heir that was too powerful for her body to handle. Hence, your name." Kazuma's eyes tore from his claws, scrutinizing Sesshoumaru's reaction.

"_My name_?"

"She forfeited her own life to bring the life of another into this world. The embodiment of the circle of life and _you_ destroyed it."

He knew she had died giving birth to him, but he had no idea that was where his name originated. The thought disgusted him. Even his name, that he would carry with him always, was marked and tainted by events he had no memory of. Why would his uncle do that, especially if he loved his sister as he said?

"You hate me then? Like my father?"

His uncle sighed, again. "Your father doesn't hate you. He just doesn't know how to deal with you. It is a consequence of his own inadequacies, not your own. Do not forget that. As for me, I do not hate you or else I would not be taking care of you as I have been."

"You hold ill-will toward me then, do you not? It would explain how hard you are on me." He inhaled sharply; he had never been so blunt with his uncle before.

Kazuma's eyes narrowed and a scowl formed. "I am hard on you to ensure your power so that I may honor my beloved sister's memory."

"So that's all you care about, huh? Making your family look good through me," he spat, his disgust with himself making him careless and clouded as he displaced his anger onto his uncle. Kazuma had him off the ground by the neck before he could inhale another breath, forcibly extracting all the air he possessed within his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

"_Foolish boy_," Kazuma said maliciously. Finally, some sort of emotion infected his horribly stable, dry voice. "You should know better than to speak of things you know nothing about."

He threw Sesshoumaru then; the rough bark of a tree splitting as it broke his fall. His anger was taking over and he knew that fact alone would enrage his uncle who had diligently taught him to keep his emotions in check—never give the enemy a clue, he had said.

He flexed his bloody claws and lunged at his uncle. The demon stood still, eyes rolling over Sesshoumaru with pointed displeasure. "Blind fury will be your downfall, boy."

Kazuma immediately darted upward and unleashed his youki whip, connecting with Sesshoumaru's back and forcing him into the blood-soaked ground. Before Sesshoumaru could make move to get up, Kazuma lifted him by the back of his haori. He roughly turned Sesshoumaru to face him and a hard slap resonated through the woods. Sesshoumaru moved his face forward slowly, facing his uncle once more, his cheek throbbing.

"You should learn some respect, boy."

"_Why_?" he asked slowly, infusing his need to understand his uncle within his strained voice.

"I am angry, yes," Kazuma said slowly, his eyes searching Sesshoumaru for a brief moment before he set him back on his feet again. His uncle continued to stare at him for a few minutes as Sesshoumaru waited with bated breath. He thought he may never know.

"Because you should have been _my_ son."

_xxx_

Kazuma turned his back then and walked away, briefly reminding Sesshoumaru of his father. That was when Sessshoumaru learned that he would never understand Kazuma on his own.

"I can't believe he said that to you. And to name you _that_ for _those _reasons is…is horrible! And what did he mean by that anyhow? You know, by saying you should have been his son and all."

He inhaled slowly, the thoughts materializing. "I believed he meant it as anger at his father. His father made a pact with mine when he gave away his daughter. My grandfather feared the decline of his family's blood and power since pure-blooded inu-youkai had become a rarity. My father was the most powerful of them all and so my grandfather forfeited his lands to my father in return for taking his daughter as a wife. I thought my uncle was angry because his father took his inheritance away and further degraded him by insinuating his inferiority to my father. Therefore, by saying I should have been his son, he meant that he should have been good enough to carry on his family's bloodline and honor."

"Oh."

He watched the stars wink at him as he tried to recall Kazuma's later elaboration on that incident. He could feel it somewhere, in the dark recesses of his own mind, willing to be exposed, but too far to reach. He just knew there was more to the story.

"I was wrong."

"So…he did love you as a son then?"

"I cannot remember. I just know my assumptions were wrong. It was far more…complicated."

"What a strange relationship," she stated nonchalantly. He couldn't agree more.

Silence reigned for a while, both engrossed with meandering thoughts.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For trusting me enough to share with me."

He scoffed, fervently attempting to disengage the smile that was threatening to form. Why he even bothered doing such a ridiculous task was beyond him, though he did recall being raised by a man that loathed smiles. Too much emotion gave away too much. That alone was a disadvantage.

"It's not as though the favor will not be repaid."

She smiled then as she stood, her protesting stomach not gone unnoticed by his ears.

"Time for some dinner!"

He watched her thoughtfully as she rummaged through that big yellow bag of hers for cooking supplies. He then realized that perhaps this little deal they struck wasn't so bad after all. In fact, it could prove doubly beneficial seeing as how talking about his past and her subsequent questions seemed to jog his memory a bit. Perhaps she could help expedite his memory's recovery. Then he could move forward instead of stagnating like this.

The yellow bag tipped over, much to her chagrin as she mumbled her incoherent frustrations. Speaking of that damnable yellow bag… "By the way," he started, not bothering to hide the growing smirk on his face, "what _were_ you doing earlier?"

She tripped over her own two feet, releasing a rather delightful yelp. Apparently, she was embarrassed by his question. No matter, he would find out eventually. It was _his_ turn to get some answers after all.

**x x x**


	12. Chapter 12

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 12:**

The stars were magnificent in all their iridescent glory; burning away like thousands of fireflies, having long been lost within an immeasurable span of time.

"What is it like in your time?" he said, his words seemingly more distant than the stars above.

Her eyes slid to his face then as she traced the line of his jaw to his mouth. His head was tilted upwards as golden-hued eyes focused on the ceaseless heavens as though he could see its ending, where it all came together.

He was like the stars, but closer—only five hundred years separating him from her.

"It's nothing like this," she replied pulling her eyes away from his moonlit face to resume her stargazing. "In five-hundred years, there aren't as many trees and people live in big cities. Cities so big that the villages here look more like ant hills." She felt his eyes fall upon her then. She could always _feel_ it when he looked at her. His gaze was so sharp and intense it felt like dozens of straight pins gliding across her skin delicately, teasing her with a subdued sense of danger.

"There are cars, which are basically motorized horse carriages—no four-legged mammals required," she said proudly as she looked at him through the corner of her eye. He always had this stern look of concentration on his face when he was listening. "And lots of industries. Industries, at least the smog-related ones, are characterized by factories full of machines that are programmed to make—"

"Kagome," he said flatly.

"Huh?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." She suddenly felt stupid for rambling on about things unknown to him, but then again, she had no idea how to make him visualize these things. It wasn't like she even knew how a car worked! This was quickly becoming an arduous task.

"You were saying that it is different. Trees are less abundant and humans live in _cities_ that are too enormous to describe. Am I following so far?" She nodded with a sudden sense of reassurance now that he summed it all up for her. He was _the_ quintessential good listener. "So I take it your world not only looks different, but feels different as well?"

She suddenly remembered what she was shooting for with the whole tree-car-industry example.

"You can't see the stars," she said regretfully, a single finger pointing toward the black and blue sky. His eyes instinctually followed her movement.

"Humans have advanced much. Perhaps too much?" His eyes fell on her again and her forearms pimpled.

"Yeah, too much," she said as her eyes found their way back to his jaw again. She saw the muscle twitch slightly as his lips pressed together in a thin line, that look of stern concentration deepening at his brow.

"If a tree is uprooted, the earth must compensate for its loss with a new seedling. Everything gives eventually and thus living creatures must learn to balance between their own lives and the life of the land that enables the existence of all. I'm surprised that humans have yet to learn this."

Her heart stilled for a moment as old, cracked wood clouded her vision. Balance was a difficult concept indeed, countered by misguided hearts and unclear priorities. Which_ life_ was more important…?

"Life just…got so complicated. Unfortunately, I think people let themselves get too busy to even think about balance," she said so softly that she wondered if she had said it aloud. She wasn't even sure if she was talking about life in the future anymore, or her own life.

His eyebrows rose slightly and arched inward—his indication to elaborate.

"Life is structured in such a way that people have no spare time. There's little time for broadening horizons and planting saplings when you got to work for eight-plus hours after shuttling the kids off to school, only to come home to cook and clean. It's exhausting!"

She saw the hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"What's wrong with diligence?"

Was that what they called it—diligence? To her, it was more like deciding between structured exhaustion and wishful thinking. Four-year accredited college degree or time-defying epic adventures? Ironically, in the end, she'll never know if she made the right choice. All the what-ifs made the hectic suburban life seem uncannily alluring.

Did I make the right choice by coming back to this era? Or am I making the wrong choice by leaving it behind?

She supposed that the well would make that decision for her when it was all said and done simply because she didn't have the gall to make it herself. She had decided upon the associate's degree just in case the well led her home. That way, she'd have at least a little something, but something in her gut told her that there was a reason she called the other side of the well _home_.

Why on earth did Sesshoumaru, out of all people, make her think about these things she had kept hidden under the rug? Yeah, she'd stumble upon that little pile eventually, but at least for now she could blissfully pretend that she hadn't swept all that significant crap under there.

"Nothing," she replied hazily, her mind rebooting after her brief get-away to la-la land. "It's just that…it's menial. No one's happy with their jobs or take pride in their work. Half the world's population seem to be paper pushers!" she said in mock exasperation as she looked to him. His jaw twitched again.

"_Paper pushers_?"

"Never mind. The real point I'm trying to make is that money rules the world in my time and everybody wants a piece of the new power pie. And technically speaking, everybody and their mama can have a slice. In the pursuit for a share of that proverbial pie, people will do anything to get ahead and they tend to forget themselves. Even if they aren't personally responsible for ripping out the forests and installing smokestacks, they still integrate into the system and perpetuate it day in and day out. A whole six billion drones or drones-in-training populate a quickly deadening and increasingly homogenized planet." She sighed long and hard, her head rising to meet the expanse above. "Sounds pretty bleak, huh?"

At least here she had the stars.

"Life has always been monotonous," he replied lazily. "And power, whatever form it takes, is always a driving force behind human destruction. At the very least, the search for power exasperates them to the point of discontent. It doesn't seem all that different here and now, no?"

She thought she saw a shooting star as she felt his eyes roll over her. He had said that everything gives, so maybe she shouldn't be so ashamed that people in her own era didn't seem to give a damn about trees and stars. At least there was more freedom and maybe, just maybe, that was worth the price of the stars.

"I suppose. But are youkai so different?"

"We can obtain that desired level of power of our own accord. If not, we have hundreds of years to seek it. Humans have no such options. It does not surprise me that they seek it by further exploiting the land."

His eyes left her, searching the night sky again. The breeze suddenly felt cooler.

"In my time," she said dreamily, wishing in vain for a pint of ice cream to magically appear to take the edge off the warm night. "Buildings are exponentially larger than trees. There are endless stores and roads there to make our lives easier. You can buy all of the essentials and more. An abundance of food and clothing sit on racks and shelves to be purchased at a set price. Machines and wires connect people from all around the world. Knowledge is at our fingertips and yet we seem too busy to fully appreciate it."

Goosebumps broke out on her neck. He was looking at her again.

"There is so much—even more than you could possibly imagine. People are educated and medicine is far beyond the primitive medicinal herbs used here. We drill into the ocean floor for oil and launch rockets into space allowing men to set foot on the moon. It's amazing, but so artificial. There's a sad lack of clean air and open fields. There are no endless forests and glittering skies. It's…it's all lost."

"The cycle of supply and demand leads to one undeniable conclusion—the desire to amass more capital."

Her eyes turned on him then, wondering where in the hell that had come from.

As though reading her mind, he said, "The book."

"You remembered that?"

"I remember everything, _except_ my age."

A small smile spread across his face at the sheer irony of his words and she couldn't help but laugh. Somehow or another he had just managed to encase all her sadness and uncertainty about her own future in a block of ice and chucked it into the sea to float away unnoticed into the watery abyss.

And all it took was a few words and a rare smile.

After she calmed down from her brief moment of euphoria, he spoke. "I cannot imagine these things you speak of, but from what I have gathered it seems the society of the future operates in a drastically different manner. I could see this in that book." He paused then and she intuitively knew he was awaiting her response.

"Capitalism and democracy are the names of the games. Apparently you now know all about capitalism," she said with a hint of sarcasm. "Democracy is the political system that goes along with it. People are free and not bound by a hierarchy based on birth. They elect their representatives and influence government and policy-making. It's an egalitarian system of ruling."

His lips thinned and she detected the subtle roll of muscle within his jaw as his mouth slowly opened. Did he always do that when conversing? If he had, she hadn't noticed, but it was oddly hypnotizing.

"But capitalism is not an egalitarian system. How do such contrasting systems coexist?"

Wow…maybe he had a point when he said she underestimated his intelligence.

"I don't know, but they do. People value a sense of self-determination and so both systems are widely accepted without question."

His face took on a thoughtful countenance as his eyes drifted back to the starlit sky, the haze of reminiscence clearing from its momentary fog. She recognized that look from before—he was remembering something. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about.

"Then I would presume that these concepts are equity-based in theory, but not in practice. After all, for one to succeed as a capitalist they must first have capital. It seems logical that those born into families with more capital maintain an advantage in that system. So in essence, wealthy families in this era, were they to retain their affluence, would have a striking advantage in your era. Basically, your future relies on illusions of what ought to be. I do suppose that makes sense. Humans, more so than most creatures, seem rather content with illusions."

She just stared at him, mouth agape, feeling suddenly stupid in comparison to him. She had thirteen years of school and two semesters of community college under her belt and he, placed in a time unfamiliar of such things, was already besting her in futuristic topics. His profound thoughtfulness and skeptical nature would make him the ideal college student. Her professors would adore him!

"Well then, what would you have society be like?" She had to ask; she just _had_ to. It just wasn't fair that he caught on so quickly! He was basically speaking of the sociological legitimization crisis and just didn't know it since it was another two hundred or so years in the making. She never would have guessed that he was such a forward thinker.

His eyes found her again, somehow, amidst the starlight.

"I am not presumptuous enough to think I have such answers. But I think that people should not be limited by birth in the nobility sense, but rather should be allotted accordingly in society based on their talents."

"Well, democracy is based on merit." She looked for his jaw to twitch. She wasn't disappointed.

"No, it's not. It's based on manipulation and domination—those with _more_ reign supreme. It's not much different than this era's societal order. Here, bloodlines openly rule. In your world they simply mask the underlying injustice of it all. You said so yourself."

"I did?" she asked lamely, simply dumbstruck, like a deer gazing into headlights, by the words coming out of his mouth. Or maybe it was that delightful little twitch of muscle at his jaw that made her so dumbfounded. Maybe it was both.

"Yes. You said people are discontent because their lives are miserably exhausting and they despise what they do day in and day out. People should do what they're good at, then they will derive a sense of contentment."

"Shouldn't they do what they love?"

"What's the point if they're no good at it. It will simply lead to frustration."

She wondered if he knew how very reminiscent his thoughts were to Plato's concept of arete. She figured he'd have an elitist's social philosophy, considering his privileged origins and temporal placement, but this? This was beyond her wildest dreams! He probably didn't even know who the hell Plato was, but that didn't dissuade her newly formed awe of him.

"But in your world greed rules supreme. Greed dominates one's life, making him yield to its every whim. And it is insatiable, devouring his essence only to make him wanton for more. I understand greed and its destructive properties. That is why I believe your era's ways of doing things will inevitably fail. There is only so much the land can give and yet the desire inflated by greed is never-ending. This capitalism is plagued by inequality and for all the wrong reasons."

Well, he did have a point, but… She imagined her awe-struck professors taking notes while a red and green clad Sesshoumaru gave a fervent speech on the evils of capitalism. She could envision him leading a march with a red-starred flag in hand. She wondered what he'd be doing at the end of the nineteenth century.

Perhaps what was worst of all was that his words struck a different chord within her, making her heart cringe at the dissonance. _Greed_… No one would call her greedy, but sometimes her chest would hurt because she felt so overly denied in life. She couldn't make good grades in high school or keep a normal friend. She couldn't have her first love nor could she obtain his praise. She felt so unworthy of everything and yet everybody seemed to depend on her for something. Maybe the problem wasn't with everyone else…maybe _she_ was the problem. Maybe she just wanted too much.

Then again, maybe she was denied so much because she had too much on her plate. She really had no sense of balance whatsoever.

"It's still better than what's going on here!" she stubbornly asserted, feeling slightly vexed that her era's problems were being blown out of proportion. They were having this conversation in an era referred to as the _Warring States_ for crying out loud!

"Perhaps, but honor is a more just reason for inequality than wealth."

She should have been surprised that the man beside her, privileged from birth and favoring an aristocratic society, placed honor before power. Was he always so? Or was he equating power with honor?

"This capitalism from your book seems to spur much progress, which you humans deem a good thing. I disagree. Tradition stands as it does for a reason—to remind us what has worked in the past so that we may not repeat our mistakes. Progress wishes to oust tradition and if the cost is the stars, then it is not worth it."

She was beginning to think that Sesshoumaru was anything but young at heart. Again, a devious little image sprang to life. This time, a suburban Sesshoumaru was yelling about disrespectful youth while waving a stick at a group of teenagers cutting through his lawn. She suppressed a giggle.

But…she loved to sleep under the stars.

"Would you try to change it then—the future? You know, since you disagree with the way things turn out."

This was actually something she was a teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy wary about. Why was he so interested in the future and what would he do with information about her era? It worried her, just a bit. Then again, maybe he was simply curious.

"No."

"Why? Inaction will cost you the stars."

That muscle twitched again and she found herself anticipating his response. Though she was strangely captivated by that insignificant little movement of his jaw, she found herself reluctant to bring the conversation to an end, though she knew she should go to bed soon. As surprising a realization as it was, she was loath to admit that she would mourn the loss of his voice. He had such a nice voice.

"I must accept the inevitable changes that will occur around me. I must adapt. It's the only way my kind has survived as we have."

They stared silently for a while at the dark canvas spread above them, stars sprinkled about like sparkling splatters of paint. She traced familiar formations so beautifully pronounced in the black backdrop that she could only read about in her time.

"I think I'll go home tomorrow and bring you more books," she said softly, her eyes refusing to leave the stars that she may only vaguely recall in the years before her.

"Why?"

"I obviously can't explain lots of things to you, so I think it'll be better that way. You know, if you have something to look at."

And now I know what you really think about the future… 

"I would like that."

**x x x**

The twilight hours were always amazing, he thought aimlessly as a cool breeze drifted through the trees.

He thought about Kagome and her surprising level of education. He would have never guessed that a female, especially a _human_ female, could be so intelligent and so well versed in political thought. Then again, her era seemed to value education enough to make it a communal commodity. He supposed that was a step in the right direction for humans. He quite liked the idea of educating females. Then there would be no excuse for the majority of their behaviors.

She rolled over and finally faced him with wide, alert eyes. She had lied down quite some time ago and had yet to succumb to slumber. Something was on her mind and knowing her as he did, he just knew that eventually she'd want to talk about it.

"Sesshoumaru?"

"Hm?"

"How come you have such strong opinions on democracy? I know it sounds silly of me to ask, but I—"

"Athens," he said distantly as a dark-skinned man came into view behind his eyes.

"Huh? How do you know of Athens?"

A flamboyant red cloak floated on the breeze, carrying with it a hearty laugh scented with old wine.

"Was the birth place of democracy," he mechanically replied, the vision of blackened eyes and silk turbans becoming clearer than it had before. Earlier, during their conversation, Kagome had once again stirred a memory to life, forcibly making him recall a distant foreigner his father had brought home. And all because some youkai wanted to learn Japanese.

"So someone had taught you of these things before?"

"Yes, but that is a tale better saved for another day. It is much too long."

"Oh," she replied, disappointment rearing its head.

The breeze shifted quietly, pushing his hair into his face as it brought to him the whispers of nightly life within the forest. Nature was so beautiful he realized, thinking about a distant world where trees were sparse and stars invisible.

"Sesshoumaru?"

He opened his eyes, his sight falling upon blackened strands tinted blue in the moonlight. He was beginning to realize he liked her hair. It possessed a shade far darker than most with a healthy sheen and a unique bluish tone to it, beautifully highlighted by soft waves. Though he faintly recognized that the conveniences of her era most likely contributed to that phenomenon, he still appreciated it nonetheless.

It was befitting of her eyes.

"What did you mean when you said you knew greed?"

He knew she should be resting, though it eluded her preoccupied mind, but he found her look of disappointment from before slightly unsettling. And _she _was the one who had once again made him remember. For that, he somehow felt she _deserved_ to know.

"The journey of conquest is in and of itself marked by greed. Power lust is nothing more than greed and _that_ I know well." She didn't look surprised, though he figured she shouldn't, but he still didn't know why that was so.

He recalled claws slicing through red scales and venomous drool curling upward in wisps of green vapor. Kazuma glided through the air as though he was a flacon in a previous life while dodging lethal flames without even breaking a sweat amongst the intense heat.

"Will you tell me a story?" she asked quietly, hope filling big blue eyes.

Was that what she desired—a story? Perhaps that was why she was disappointed when he didn't share his memories of the foreigner who brought to him a shallow understanding of lands far away, making him all the more incessant upon upholding tradition. That was too much to tell so late in the night, but this one was much shorter and much clearer. Perhaps he should tell her what he almost did.

Blood flowed thick and began to glow…

"_What do you think you're doing?"_

"Kazuma once taught me what I had long presumed to be the greatest lesson he had ever given me," he said lethargically, carefully annunciating each syllable as he thought how best to describe this particular snippet of his life.

"_Convenience is never worth the price of honor. Remember that."_

"What was that?"

"Greed makes one take short cuts. Convenience, he had said, is never worth the price of honor."

_xxx_

"Finished already?"

"Yes," he replied lazily. It was _another_ book on war. Humans apparently immersed themselves in various war theories in order to find the most beneficial combat strategies. He understood the importance of military prowess, but these were all just some mortals' opinions, nothing more. To him, each battle was a separate entity, meaning each held within itself a highly individual set of circumstances in which a customized plan of attack must be realized.

Maybe that's what Kazuma was trying to teach him.

"Good," Kazuma replied. "Now write out a summary and what you have learned. Then compare it to the previous ones you have read. I expect it done by tonight—"

The door opened, revealing a disheveled messenger.

"I hope you have due reason for barging in so disrespectfully," Kazuma said lazily as he glared at the emissary from behind narrowed eyes.

"Yes, milord," the uniformed man said while straightening himself. "A dragon youkai has broken through the northern defense. The stronghold has been annihilated."

"I would have thought the Inu no Taishou had the best defenses in all of Japan seeing as how he takes such extended leaves."

"But milord, something is off with this youkai. He's enormous and beastly! He's a taiyoukai and demonstrates no control whatsoever! And his wounds heal as soon as they're inflicted!"

"Dragons have always healed quickly. What do you think Sesshoumaru?" his uncle asked, inclining his head toward him to prompt a response.

"It sounds odd. Dragons heal quickly, but not quicker than inuyoukai. Perhaps we should take him out?"

"Are you up to it?"

"Yes."

"Then we shall leave immediately."

His uncle stood with haste and Sesshoumaru followed him to the adjacent room where they kept their personal weapons. He fumbled with the black leather straps as Kazuma chose a weapon, his copper breastplate already in place. With armor now secured, he moved next to his uncle, wondering how much longer he'd fit into this particular set of armor. He still looked to be approximately the age of a sixteen year-old human boy, though he was much, much older. He knew he shouldn't concern himself with something as meaningless as his first armor set since one day he'd have a son to whom he would give it, but it _was_ his first and only birthday gift.

Wiping sentimentality from his mind, he focused on Kazuma's burgundy kosode as the demon strapped a long broadsword onto his back with a poppy-colored sash. He took it upon himself to procure a standard katana, which he immediately secured through his obi at his hip, content with his choice after a nod of approval from his uncle. Without any words exchanged, he followed Kazuma around the twisting corridors until they were outside, the warm air a nice reprieve from the damp and drafty citadel.

He then made move to summon his cloud of ki, the wisps of red smoke rising from beneath his feet.

"No," Kazuma stated sternly. "Conserve your youki. We are to face an unstable taiyoukai. We have no idea what we're up against."

He nodded, retracting his energy back within himself when Kazuma leapt over the stone wall surrounding the fortress. He followed suit and soon enough the two of them were gliding over the treetops faster than a mortal's eye could see.

He picked up on the heavy scents of blood and fire soon after their departure and he could feel the immense power radiating off the youkai in the distance. He had never felt such power so massively warped. Something was definitely amiss.

"There," Kazuma said, the sound faint among the harsh wind they created as they sped through the air.

He looked at the bloodied clearing and leapt downwards, Kazuma already standing among the dead bodies. An ungodly roar erupted from behind the line of trees on the other side of the clearing.

"Something unnatural has exponentially increased this youkai's strength. His power is amazing," Kazuma said, breaking the deathly silence.

"What could have done such a thing?"

"I think I have an idea," his uncle responded cryptically, taking a step forward. "Whatever happens Sesshoumaru, heroics are not worth your life, understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. However, I think we'll be able to handle this just fine," Kazuma said as he threw Sesshoumaru a confident look from over his shoulder, a small smirk showing sharp fangs.

That _look_ made Sesshoumaru's blood move—this was his chance to impress his uncle.

A loud crash slammed through the air as the trees moaned their own demise, branches giving way to a hefty creature. A red serpentine dragon emerged with smudged golden marks under his glowing eyes. His eyes were mere slits and his scales shimmered a deep red in the sunlight as he moved with a speed far too great for a creature of such stature. He was indeed large, so large in fact that Sesshoumaru would wager he was at least twice the size of his father's demonic form.

The dragon roared again, a long breath of fire escaping past long, thick fangs. The earth rumbled in response as he moved forward; blood lust lingering in the air like a blinding fog. Kazuma surged forth to meet him, his speed greater than the ghastly creature's. Kazuma moved like lightning—the very air's constitution disrupted by the sheer force of his speed. Kazuma was so fast that he could never tell where the air began and ended; Kazuma a ceaseless shadow, seemingly immobile as he transported himself from plane to lateral plane. It was awe-inspiring watching him move; there was no telling where he'd end up.

Kazuma's youki whip flared to life and within seconds one of the dragon's monstrous fangs was caught. Kazuma pulled downward and forced the creature into a bowing position. He didn't await instructions as he rushed toward the subdued dragon. Upon arriving near its gigantic head, he released his dokkasou and ran his poisonous claws through the dragon's snout. The monster screamed in protest, bucking its head up and down until it freed itself from Kazuma's whip.

"_Out of the way_!" Kazuma yelled as he leapt backwards. Sesshoumaru did the same and felt the surging wave of heat upon his back as the dragon tried to take them out with a rain of fire. He turned mid-air as he landed, all the while watching as the dragon's flames vanished into nothing but black smoke. The beast turned on him then and charged, nostrils flaring in outrage as green goop oozed from his wounded snout.

His blood was discharging the poison.

Sesshoumaru darted upward as his own youki whip extended from his fingertips, his inherent venom gathering at his claws only to drip downward, coating his whip and doubling the weapon's lethal effects. He pushed forward as though he was walking on air and slammed his whip down onto the dragon's face, pulling back and thrusting downward again. Deep, infectious gashes covered the beast's scaly face and with one last slice as he fell toward the ground, Sesshoumaru gouged out one of the dragon's eyes.

When he reached the grass below he noticed that Kazuma had done some damage as well. His uncle was running at a dizzying pace as he ran his claws through the dragon's underbelly, red scales ripping apart, permitting the crimson lifeblood to fall uninhibited as the dragon screamed.

Sesshoumaru leapt up again as Kazuma cleared the monster's belly and prepared his dokkasou. When he met the remaining eye of the dragon he noticed, with much chagrin, that the creature's facial wounds were closing, once again discharging the acid from within.

"What?" he whispered. The dragon released an inferno wave again, this time much faster, forcing Sesshoumaru to draw his sword to ward off the flames as he landed, the line of fire matching his own angle and pace. The metal held it's own as it began glowing from the incomprehensible heat. The metal would melt at this rate.

The heat retracted suddenly and a pitiful yelp spiraled out from the beast's lungs. He threw the hot sword to the ground, immediately noticing Kazuma's bloodied sword gripped between white and red knuckles. He had cut off the dragon's front two legs.

Sesshoumaru moved forward with fingers extended, a soft green glow emitting from sharp claws taut with anticipation.

"Wait," Kazuma said. "I wish to test my theory."

"Shouldn't we take him out now while he's immobile? It seems less cruel than allowing him to bleed to death."

"Sometimes it is wise to delay killing an adversary if it permits you to learn more about a greater enemy."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll learn to sense these things more acutely with time. For now, I think you are about to understand my meaning," Kazuma said as his eyes slid back to the blood-red dragon.

Sesshoumaru then felt a powerful pull, like the air around him had been sucked into a great vortex. The pulse of malevolent power was consuming as his inner beast growled for release. He could feel it pushing against his will as his claws elongated.

"What's happening?" he ground out, very much aware of his guttural voice.

"Control yourself, boy. The dragon has healed."

He refocused his eyes on the previously dying beast and nearly gasped when he realized that the dragon's front legs had reattached themselves to the body. The dragon youkai roared in triumph as it tested its renewed appendages, its snout flaring as it prepared itself for another fire attack. He watched in awe as a fierce flame reached out for him, faintly recognizing a pull and tear at his neck. He was moving away from the dragon.

"Snap out of it, boy," Kazuma chastised as he dropped a piece of blue and white fabric.

Had he frozen like a foolish child just then?

Before he could think on it anymore, Kazuma's eyes changed from their natural olive shade to a flaming red as his youki gathered around his body in a fierce cyclone. His body morphed into a giant red dog, his crescent moon a shade darker than his fur. Sesshoumaru concentrated intensely; not yet so accustomed to transforming into his baser beast. His youki accumulated with ease as he focused on each and every limb and fiber of his body, willing it to mold itself as he pleased. He could feel his muscles enlarging and his claws and fangs lengthening. He could feel every part of his being changing as he ignored the sharp, fiery pain of metamorphosis.

Kazuma already had the dragon's neck between his fangs, the beast continuously moving its head from side to side, unknowingly deepening the lacerations on its own throat as flames shot out of its scaly mouth. He could hear the distinct crunch of bones as Kazuma's jaws tightened down, creating more and more pressure that could not be withstood by any creature. Sesshoumaru charged forth and snagged the dragon's leg, his acid-infused saliva almost instantly severing the appendage. The youkai screamed in agony and Sesshoumaru responded by clamping his massive jaws down over the dragon's snout, firmly closing it and ending the rain of fire. Venom seeped into the gaping flesh, scourging the beast from within. The roars became muffles as gigantic fangs pierced through bone, the dragon's snout collapsing into uselessness. Sesshoumaru then moved to the side of its belly, dragging venomous claws from the creature's spine to its underbelly, blood pouring like a waterfall, a green mist resident at its base. Something luminous fell from the side of its belly then and rolled away from the taiyoukai, a ray of light reflected off the shiny surface to wink at him as the dragon's innards fell to the ground. Sesshoumaru retracted his claws as Kazuma bit through the creature's neck, immediately transforming to his humanoid state as he pulled his broadsword from his back to run down the creature's other side as he fell to the ground. The dragon was nearly split in half.

Sesshoumaru walked to the shiny black object lying on the ground and changed back to his more natural form as he neared it. He bent down to look at it and realized it was a jewel of some sort, though it wasn't a black pearl as he had first thought. The strangest thing of all was the warped and ominous power that rolled off the still stone in tsunami-like waves; it was so powerful, it was overwhelming. It beckoned him to pick it up and hold it within his palm so he could fully appreciate and savor its delicious offerings. His fingers were itching to touch it and taste the limitless power it offered him. What was this thing that called to his very blood with a power so profound that his inner beast was entranced, demanding release once again. Nothing ever spoke to his inner demon with such accord. Like it was made just for him…

He reached for it.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He barely registered his uncle's voice as the sweet song of promised power whispered harmoniously within his ear.

"Just think what I could become with this in my possession," he whispered lustfully; his fingers nearing the magical object as his eyes darkened with want.

Kazuma used the end of his sword and pushed the black jewel from Sesshoumaru's reach. "_That_, is not for you," Kazuma warned.

He turned accusing red eyes on his uncle.

"Want it for yourself?" He could not believe the words that had just left his mouth nor could he even consider the malicious tone of voice he had just used. He suddenly didn't feel like himself and his eyes returned to their usual golden hue.

"Listen to yourself, boy," Kazuma asserted with an authority fit for a king. "Greed is an all-consuming entity that never rests. It will eat away your very soul and you'll never even realize what you've become."

Power was his obsession, his one and only desire in the world, and so he lusted after it like an infatuated teenager, too eager for instant gratification to contain his more primal urges. He had wanted power for quite some time now, its birth associated with a consuming desire to make his father love him. But his father valued control and his lust made him abandon that hard-won discipline over his mind and body in order to shorten the route to ultimate conquest. Had he succumbed to desperation? Or had his ultimate goal changed?

Maybe pleasing his father was not as important as it had once been. Maybe now it was more like wishing to best his father…

"That _thing_ is the greater enemy of which I spoke. Born from the souls of a priestess and a demon, the Shikon no Tama holds within it unimaginable power. It is said it even grants wishes and that a single shard alone will make a demon exponentially stronger."

"It is evil then? Is that why I should not have it?"

"It is not evil or good. If my understanding is correct, then it amplifies the dominant intentions of the bearer, even warping them. All living things tend to be selfish and so one can easily see why such a thing is dangerous. I highly doubt that that dragon youkai was evil. Usually taiyoukai don't go on rampages. He had obviously lost his mind."

"How are you so sure?"

"Taiyoukai prefer their humanoid forms. It is more convenient and manageable. It is easier to fight expediently and efficiently in such a form, not to mention that many of our innate gifts are only accessible in our humanoid forms—like our youki whips. It was not wise for him to fight us in his primal form. A lack of tactical wisdom in such a powerful being is indicative of lunacy."

"You think that jewel made him crazy from power lust?"

"Yes. That thing is not even safe to touch."

"Perhaps I have more control than he did. I'm sure I'm more powerful as well, so perhaps I can control the jewel." His uncle stiffened and a scowl spread across his face, marring his otherwise elegant features.

"In truth, power is a corrupting force," he began slowly, drawing Sesshoumaru further in with each drawled syllable. "However, I believe that those greatly gifted with it from birth are less susceptible to its destructive properties. Your father is an astounding example of which you should emulate. But that object will undoubtedly destroy your ability to ward off the corruption of power. That is why power must be obtained through diligence and persistence and knowledge. It must be earned—that is the only way to achieve it honorably."

His uncle stepped forward as he untied his orange sash, bending down to pick up the black jewel between the folds of the thick fabric.

"Are we to find a miko?"

"Yes, and quick," his uncle replied. "This thing is too warped for me to handle for too long, or else I may succumb to its destructive spell." He nodded at his uncle and turned toward the trees, prepared to propel himself onto their branches.

"Sesshoumaru," Kazuma said with a tone of weary authority.

"Yes?"

"Convenience is never worth the price of honor. Remember that."

Kazuma leapt above the trees then as an exasperated Sesshoumaru followed, all the while wondering if he could ever surpass his father in power while still retaining his honor.

_xxx_

"I located a miko shortly thereafter while Kazuma kept watch over the jewel. He had such monumental control that the jewel's powerful aura seemed to have no effect on him. It was rather amazing, and so from then on I strove to match his control and resolve so I too would not mar my honor."

That was the day he realized the importance of honor and vowed to make it the centerpiece of his life. He taught himself how to balance his growing power with his hard-line sense of honor and he felt he was better for it, though he was loath to admit that at times he did not hold this concept to its highest of standards. Though he knew that much to be true, something dark with hatred and bitter with resentment tickled the back of his mind as though to remind him of some deep-seeded act of treachery later to come that would repeatedly try and test that oath so carefully cultivated within himself.

"Do you know what happened to the jewel?" she asked with a ghostly shadow tainting her tone.

"Well, the miko took it reluctantly, claiming she didn't have the power to protect such an object so sought after by youkai. She was to take it to the village where it was created, saying that the demon slayers there would be fit to guard it. She was attacked and killed during her journey by bandits who took the jewel and wrought havoc on several human villages. It somehow ended up in the belly of another demon that was slain by those same exterminators she was seeking," he replied monotonously, the shadow of doubt lingering in his mind. "But I don't think that's the last I saw of it."

"Your uncle was right, you know," she said, exhaustion finally seeping into her voice. "Everyone who comes into contact with that jewel suffer because of it."

Yes, he knew, for Kazuma was _always_ right.

"You know of the Shikon no Tama?" he asked quietly as he traced the shadows dancing across her moonlight face.

"Yeah," she supplied lazily, sleepiness clouding her normally clear, bright voice. "It's why I'm here."

He listened as her breathing slowed and evened, all the while trying to rid his mind of the uncannily disturbing images of a glowing arrow and dark tentacles.

**x x x**


	13. Chapter 13

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 13:**

He felt ridiculous. In all actuality, he felt like a moronic imbecile trailing after his master like an affection-starved puppy.

_But she has no weapon_, he reminded himself.

Kagome left shortly after rising, not even bothering to bathe, as was her morning ritual, saying she was returning home for a short while to procure the agreed upon books she promised him. She had warned him not to follow, promptly reminding him of their agreement—he was not supposed to know the medium by which she defied time.

And here he was, silently weaving in between trees, a far distance behind her, but close enough to smell and hear her. He had every intention of following her wishes and he did in fact plan on following through with the main objective of that wish, though he _was_ tailing her. He would simply continue tracking her footsteps until her scent disappeared. So in essence, he would be living up to his side of the bargain by not _actually_ _looking_ when she traversed time and space.

That fact still didn't shake the feeling of absurdity as he measured his steps, ensuring a proper distance, though he knew she couldn't even smell him no less _sense_ him. Why was he doing this again? Oh yes, he had realized it this morning.

She was unarmed. But she had been unarmed the entire time since he had awoken. Why care now?

Because they were being watched, he could feel it, _again_.

He had felt this before, on more than one occasion, so why concern himself with it now? He really couldn't answer that question since he had felt the eyes of another while Kagome was home taking tests. Perhaps this uninvited visitor was watching _him_.

Either way, he didn't know. All he knew was that it was not safe and most definitely not prudent for the girl to roam around without a weapon of any sort. Could she even wield a weapon? She must be able to, for she had said so herself when he instructed her to procure a weapon before she returned so she may protect herself. He was beginning to wonder how well she handled her weapon, whatever it may be, since he hadn't asked and she hadn't offered to name it. He just couldn't imagine her wielding a sword with any proficiency and her sad lack of sensory abilities and overall pacific nature made her appear less than capable of defending herself.

So he had followed her and he felt pathetic for it.

She didn't even know he was there, lurking in the brush a few long meters behind her as she hummed softly to herself, arm swinging at her hip, in tune with her strides. He smirked to himself when he thought about how easily he could frighten her. It would be a thrill to playfully stalk her and then grab her suddenly from behind, all the while maintaining anonymity. She would be scared out of her wits and then furious when he revealed himself. Then again, she probably wouldn't see the humor in it.

A yelp pulled him from his inner musings as he prepared to lunge forward in attack. That was, until he realized that she simply stumbled over a rock. He smiled when her colorful words of frustration reached his ears and his smile only widened when she kicked the inconspicuous rock only to yelp again. Apparently, that rock had a firm stake in that particular plot of earth and was quite reluctant to forfeit it and her toes had paid the price.

She was such an amusing creature.

He watched from behind a branch full of leaves as she sat down and removed her shoe to inspect her pseudo-wound. The breeze picked up ever so slightly, bringing to him a delightful rush of her scent. He vaguely wondered if that scent was part of the reason he was following her now—like a subconscious desperation to keep it near him. He could openly admit to himself that he liked her scent, _very much_. It was like a calming force upon his body, competing for dominance with his more rigid state of being. He honestly couldn't describe it, but he found it pleasant. And he liked it when the atmosphere around him was pleasant. It seemed like a rare treat.

His sense of smell was perhaps his most dominant, he realized, as memories of Kazuma hunting him as he hid in a river sprang to mind. He remembered being so frightened as he ducked underneath the water, thinking his uncle would be furious if he were to be caught. Those first few weeks of being in his uncle's presence had quickly taught Sesshoumaru one thing—not living up to Kazuma's standards had painful consequences. Though it was in the name of training, it was still uncomfortable, he thought as he recalled Kazuma repeatedly submerging him in water saying he needed to expand his lung capacity. He hated water ever since.

After that unfortunate, yet effective lesson, he quickly learned how to mask his scent by the direction of the wind and by controlling his youki. The control of his youki took far longer and he hadn't mastered it for many, many years thereafter, but he had become competent enough in discretion to pass Kazuma's 'stalking test', as he liked to call it. After conditioning, the next level of training was stealth. With both of those skills mastered, combat training could commence since it would prove he had sufficient control of his body. Though that fact changed once he commenced using his innate weapons. His youki whip was hell to control and his dokkasou was difficult to consciously call upon. He remembered waking up to the putrid scent of acid in the middle of the night only to discover he had subconsciously released it onto the floor during his sleep. There was no doubt to whom _that_ room belonged. That training was anything but pleasant and Kazuma had told him to focus his acid onto his whip, which served as a point of concentration, thus enabling him to utilize his poison at his own whim. Eventually, he was able to use his dokkasou without his youki whip, which was a long time in the making.

His head jerked forward when he realized her scent was moving away. Before he could take another step, he knew she was gone.

He wanted to look into that clearing so _damn_ bad.

But he didn't.

And he already missed her scent, its potency decreased as its remnants faded.

Again, the fact that he found her scent pleasing perplexed him. He recalled Hitomi's sweet and grounded scent that had excited him, causing his blood to rush through his veins. Her scent had been an oxymoron, like heaven and earth being one in the same. Oh, how Kazuma had hated her! Kazuma and the foreigner his father had brought home nearly killed each other over their conflicting views of the girl.

"_How do you know of Athens?"_

"_She is the goddess, Aphrodite, in human form."_

"_So you take what you wish from different religions?" _

"_Whether I stand before Allah, Judea, God or Buddha, none can smite me!"_

"_She tells you how to love life. Listen to her teachings."_

"_She would rather curse the very ground you walk on than love you."_

Words of broken Japanese and tales of a desert god flowed into the ears of a conflicted youth. Kazuma sat beside him, a look of discontent etched into his face.

"Maurus," he whispered to himself.

_xxx_

Kazuma handed him a flask as he took a seat on the cool grass, sweat running down his neck and a battered bokken resting at his hip. Just as the first droplet of water touched his lips, he caught whiff of his father's scent on the breeze. He jumped to his feet, Kazuma already looking toward the citadel and he ran toward his home, all thoughts centered on his father's once again late arrival. In his haze, he barely registered the unfamiliar scents accompanying his father.

He leapt over a wall and nearly crashed into a soldier as he skidded across the courtyard.

Then he saw them. His father was speaking to a strange looking man with a bright red cloak wrapped around his face and neck, its tail flowing down his back to end at his feet. The oddest part was that a woman seemed to be mediating between the two, almost as though she was speaking for them, but that was impossible, for he saw the men speaking as well. When he neared them, his father's eyes greeted him and he recognized the human woman as being a native of the mainland. Before he could even contemplate why his father had brought home _another_ human female, he caught the man's words. He spoke formal Cantonese with a strange accent that nearly subdued the flowing syllables of the language.

He was foreign, _very_ foreign.

"Sesshoumaru," his father greeted.

Black eyes turned on him then.

"Father," he said with a curt nod as he stopped in front of the small group.

"This is Fei-Lei," his father said, pointing to the Cantonese woman. "She was a great asset to me during my last campaign in her homeland. Make sure she is granted the respect she is due."

"Yes, father."

"And this is Maurus," his father said, gesturing to the red-cloaked man. "He comes from the distant land of Mauretania and is a close ally of Fei-Lei. Treat him well, for he shall be staying with us for quite a while."

He took a good look at the foreigner, now realizing how very black his eyes were. A few sparse strands of black hair curled up from underneath his makeshift headdress and his skin was a deep copper.

That was the first time he had seen Maurus.

A few moons later, his father ventured back to the mainland with the translator, Fei-Lei, and the dark-skinned foreigner had remained, though Sesshoumaru had hardly seen him throughout the past months. He did know, however, that the foreigner named Maurus laughed a lot and liked to drink with his father. They would go out in the afternoon and not return until the early hours before dawn. He had asked his father about Maurus and all his father would tell him was that the foreigner was old, very old, and found traveling a good investment of his time. Apparently, the traveler was well versed in many languages and cultures and wished to add Japanese to his repertoire.

He stumbled upon the foreigner that very morning.

It was rather late in the morning, at least to Sesshoumaru, who was forcibly accustomed to Kazuma's early starts, when he ventured into the gardens to meditate after a rather arduous training session. Maurus was leaning against a tree; his head slacked upright against the trunk.

"Sessh-maru," he said brightly in greeting. Maurus could never pronounce his name correctly. Certain syllables seemed to be physically impossible for the man to annunciate, or he was just too lazy to try to speak proper Japanese.

He nodded at the man, intending to bypass him without another word, but Maurus would not have it so.

"Sit with me."

"Why?" he asked after a brief pause.

"We don't speak."

"We're speaking now, are we not?" he asked sarcastically. All he wanted was some damn peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask?

"You so boring!" He laughed, full and hearty, the sound almost warming in its richness.

But that fact alone didn't ebb his insult.

"And you so stupid," he snapped, mocking the man's less-than-perfect Japanese.

"Anda-tt tmazight di ttawilat n teghwalt?" he said sternly in a coarse, but wondrously flowing language.

Sesshoumaru just stared at him.

"Pourquoi êtes-vous si froid et condescendant?"

He narrowed his eyes at the foreigner.

"¿Por qué eres tan frío y condescending?"

He glared, hard and cold, at the defiant man.

"Γιατί είστε τόσο κρύοι και?"

The insult was growing by the second. Why had his father demanded the best treatment of this vile vermin? However, it wasn't like his father would know if he did something to this disrespectful creature.

"Or would you have me ask in the language of my namesake? Perchè siete così freddi e condescending?"

"_What_ are you saying?" he demanded quietly through clenched teeth.

"Let us talk," he said casually as he patted the ground next to him. He even scooted over a bit to suggest that Sesshoumaru sit on that particular plot of grass, mere inches from his person.

He sat down across from him.

"Maurus is not my given name. My father called me Almohad. My people called my land Tamurt Nnegh. Later they would call it Al Maghrib. The Romans called it Maurtania and they called me Maurus. My skin is dark they say and they call me Maurus. I keep it since."

"Where are these places?" he asked, trying not to sound interested, though he was.

"Al Maghrib is in north Africana. It is far away. The Romans, they were powerful. So powerful they spread and take my homeland. From Rome they came in the heart of Europa. Beautiful their land it is."

"You carry the name given to you by those who conquered your homeland? That's ridiculous."

Maurus laughed, short and loud. "You see them, you know. They were human, but like plague they take and destroy. I was in love!" He laughed again.

"I don't understand. Your given name is far more valuable than the name given to you by a people you found yourself infatuated with."

"You are young, no understanding. They were majestic and strong. They build such marvels!"

"If they were so great, why are you here?"

"They fall. They grew too much too fast and they fall. The people find rule."

"What does that mean?"

"The Greeks call it _democracy_. The people rule and people are fools."

"Who are the Greeks?"

"Curious you be. I tell you when I speak a better. Japanese…it difficult, even for me."

Even though he didn't interact with the foreigner, it was no secret that he liked to talk.

"In other words, you don't feel like talking about it." Maurus smiled wide. "I still don't understand why you're here."

"To learn Japanese and your ways. I am old. I have more years than your father. Life is boring and I find interest where I can. It has brought me here from the west. I go back one day."

"To see how it has changed?"

"More or less. Mainly, I go back to make my homage."

"Your homage?"

"Allah calls me home."

"Allah?"

"The God of the Desert."

"That is your god?"

"My people's God."

"Then you do not worship this god?"

"Eh, yes and no."

"What _do_ you mean?" This man was exasperating—like a walking contradiction. Apparently decisiveness was not in Maurus' vocabulary.

He turned his hand and pulled up his sleeve, revealing a six-pointed star set in ink into the skin of his wrist. "The God of Judea gives me wisdom to do what is right, for he reminds me what happens to fools." He released his sleeve and pulled an uneven cross from beneath his cloak. "The God of Rome gives me thanks, for he reminds me what it is to suffer." He pointed west and sighed softly. "The God of the Desert gives me courage, for he reminds me what awaits the dutiful." He turned black eyes to Sesshoumaru, a tiny smirk tugging at full lips. "Now I wish to learn of Buddha for he promises peace to those who open their hearts. I long for peace."

"So you take what you wish from different religions? That seems rather counterproductive."

"No," he said, his smirk growing to a full-blown smile. "This way, when the earth dies or I, which ever comes first, I be okay. Whether I stand before Allah, Judea, God or Buddha, none can smite me!"

Sesshoumaru couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"You make absolutely no sense."

"Why are you so cold and condescending?"

"What?"

"That is what I ask you before. I can ask you in Canton if you like."

"That is not necessary."

"You answer my question?"

"No."

"You very different from your father."

He stood and walked away then, only seeing the foreigner sparsely over the next several months.

Then Hitomi turned her back on him because of his youkai blood, though it was more symbolic in nature than concrete actuality. He knew her body still longed for him even if she tried to deny it. Nevertheless, he was upset and confused at first, but when he rose the next morning, that uncertainty morphed into fury. He sat down silently at the table across from Maurus, not surprised like he should have been that the desert youkai actually made it to breakfast.

"What troubles you?" Maurus asked quietly, teacup in hand.

He ignored him, his eyes boring holes into his own empty cup as he willed it to break under his intense gaze. He _really_ wanted to destroy something.

Kazuma entered the room, pausing briefly as he silently inspected the room's occupants, then took a seat at the head of the table. Maurus nodded to Kazuma and the inuyoukai ignored him as well, opting for the pot of tea at the center of the table.

"You arrived home earlier than expected last night," Kazuma said, his eyes on Sesshoumaru.

"I was tired."

"Really?" Kazuma asked sarcastically. "I think I would have believed you had you actually smelled of sex." His uncle wore a devious smirk on his face and Sesshoumaru wanted to smack it clean off.

Maurus' eyes lit up then.

"Need help in the art of wooing?" Maurus asked, a naughty tone to his voice.

"Look at the boy," Kazuma said rigidly, turning his attention to Maurus. "He could be a blundering fool and women would still fall at his feet."

"I was just offering assistance," Maurus asserted roughly, obviously in no mood to tolerate Kazuma. "The girl is human and I doubt _you_ could help him."

Sesshoumaru turned a shocked expression to Maurus then, wondering how in the hell he knew of Hitomi. Maurus laughed at the look he was given and decided to elaborate.

"I heard Kazuma here warning you of the evils of human women. I was curious to see who little Sessh-maru had taken interest in, so I followed you to the village."

"And you didn't detect his presence?" Kazuma asked accusingly, making Sesshoumaru inwardly cringe. "He smells of cheap sake and spoiled fish. How could you _not_ catch his scent?"

"Just because I prefer my fish cooked does not mean it's spoiled," Maurus said calmly. "And if the sake I drink is cheap, then the tenants of this home are to blame."

Kazuma looked disinterested as usual. "Perhaps it is simply your natural scent then."

Sesshoumaru repressed a laugh. Kazuma and Maurus did not care for one another, but were forced to deal with each other civilly nonetheless because of his father. But that didn't mean they couldn't throw insults at each other from time to time.

"Well, I saw her and I must say I was nicely surprised by little Sessh-maru's choice."

Why couldn't he just say _Sesshoumaru_? He could speak the language fluently now, so there was no excuse. When asked, Maurus simply replied that he would call him 'Sessh-maru' because it was what he first called him and thus it held sentimental value. It was absurd and especially demeaning since he frequently added the word 'little' before it as though it was a disgusting prefix to his name.

"It's Sess-_hou_-maru," he asserted.

"Whatever," Maurus said, waving him off like a child. "Maybe if you'd take a look at her _Kazi-mu_ then you'd change your mind."

"If you cannot pronounce my name correctly, then do not say it at all."

"She is the goddess, Aphrodite, in human form," Maurus said in a delighted voice as he brushed off Kazuma's words without a second thought.

"That girl is worthy of nothing but insult."

"Since when did Allah die and name _you_ his successor?"

"Do not include _me_ in the same sentence as your ridiculous and vile god."

"How the great Inu no Taishou allows such a disrespectful man to run his home in his absence is beyond me."

"Perhaps you'd understand if you did not spend your existence in a state of drunkenness."

"At least _I_ know how to enjoy life."

"Hn, if that's what _you_ call it. At least you were tolerable when you couldn't communicate."

"Jealous at how quickly I mastered your language?"

"Hardly."

It was amusing at first, listening to them bicker, but now it was just plain ridiculous—_especially _since the topic of conversation was _him_, even though they were digressing to insult one another.

"She turned her back on me because of my youkai blood," he said quietly, not at all surprised when two sets of eyes focused on him.

"You need to make her understand," Maurus began with his usual up-beat attitude. "She will; you are too tempting for her not to. You are beautiful and powerful—two things no woman can resist!"

"You are a fool," Kazuma stated with severity, though Sesshoumaru wasn't sure if he was talking about Maurus or him. "She is unworthy of his mere attention, least of all his affection."

"I don't expect _you_ to understand the beauty of a human woman's touch," Maurus said to Kazuma, his black eyes slowly drifting to Sesshoumaru. "Love is a beautiful thing. She tells you how to love life. Listen to her teachings." Was that why his father seemed to enjoy the company of human females?

"_Love_?" Kazuma spat. "He is in lust, not love. Perhaps it is time to introduce him to the carnal pleasures of the world. That way, his ignorance will not cause him to stoop so low as to crave the touch of a worthless human female."

"Listen to yourself!" Maurus nearly yelled, much to the disdain of both Sesshoumaru and Kazuma. "His first experiences with these things should not be tainted as such. What would his father think?"

"I don't know what _his_ father would think," Kazuma began, malice hanging on every word, "since the Inu no Taishou takes little interest in his son's upbringing. _His _sentiments be damned. I will gladly rid you of this world and face his wrath than have you pollute Sess-_hou_-maru's mind with your folly."

"It's not your decision anyhow and I'm sure that fact alone pisses you off to no end. Why don't you ask the boy?" Maurus turned his attention back to Sesshoumaru. "Do you love her, Sessh-maru?"

Did he? He knew he wanted her so badly that his stomach flipped and his blood sang when he caught scent of her. His fingers itched to touch her pale skin and he…he wanted…

"I don't know," he replied flatly.

"Sesshoumaru," Kazuma said fiercely, bringing Sesshoumaru's eyes to his. "She would rather curse the very ground you walk on than love you."

He wanted to strike him then, but he knew better. His uncle's tongue may be sharp, but it also had impeccable aim. Did she love him? He was suddenly so angry and so confused and…and… He stood and walked away.

Maurus ran after him.

"Sessh-maru!" he yelled.

He didn't respond, only continued walking away from his problems, like he always did.

"Anda-tt tmazight di ttawilat n teghwalt?"

Sesshoumaru stopped, not daring to look at him as he asked that familiar question in his native tongue for the second time over the course of a year.

"I know the answer now."

He turned his head to the side and tilted it downward in the attempt to stop himself from looking at the youkai behind him. He would not grant this foreigner the respect given with direct eye contact and full attention. He was so angry right now and he couldn't disrespect his uncle and so Maurus was the logical and convenient choice.

"Because you take after your uncle."

With an abrupt intake of air, he shot Maurus a nasty glare and turned quickly to continue his departure, all the while wondering if he had anything of his father's besides his dokkasou, golden eyes and silver hair.

He would find with time that there were in fact only four things he possessed that originated with his father. The fourth being a life-giving sword that had no use to him, for a human woman's touch he would never know.

_xxx_

He possessed a love-hate relationship with Maurus. There were times he found himself enjoying Maurus' company and other times he loathed the desert demon's very existence. He enjoyed listening to Maurus' tales of lands beyond his comprehension and discovered that for some odd reason he liked the sound of Maurus' voice, with its heavy accent and flighty annunciation. He found Maurus' whimsical nature rather foolish, but then again, Maurus was older than his father, and thus the demon couldn't be all that stupid to have survived so long—fate didn't allow such consistent luck. He would later learn that Maurus' carefree and non-committal attitude granted Maurus with a fulfilling and satisfactory life full of varied experiences. Sesshoumaru was jealous of the freedom Maurus exercised over his own life, and Maurus tended to rub Kazuma the wrong way, making Sesshoumaru's life all the more unbearable for it.

But Maurus made him realize he was more like his uncle than his father. Maurus craved new experiences, thus compelling him to travel all over the world in order to sate his appetites. He was a fan of progress and integrating various components of foreign cultures and religions into his own, which led to one undeniable conclusion in Sesshoumaru's life—tradition equaled stability. Stability in turn ensured responsibility, of which Maurus had none.

That was when he vowed never to change his name. If he lived long and was forced to move to other lands, he would never leave his name behind. It was his and his uncle had given it to him.

And he cherished _everything_ his uncle had given him.

The more he thought on it, the more he realized that perhaps his experiences with Maurus made him as curious as he was of Kagome's era. He may not live to see the changes before him and so he was interested to know what would come of his homeland. However, he also realized he liked to listen to her talk. Her speech patterns were different, even if only slightly, but her adjoining words and phrases were worlds apart from what he was accustomed to, making him rather content to simply listen to her as she babbled on about things he couldn't possibly imagine.

She was like Maurus in that she was free to decide her own fate, unlike himself, a being bred for power so that he may rule what his father left behind. Freedom was not his to have and that further fueled his quest for power, because with more power came more freedom. But if Kazuma had taught him anything at all, it was that with greater power came greater responsibility and thus an honorable being craving freedom must learn to balance those conflicting ideals. Responsibility limited one's freedom after all.

Kagome just didn't know that yet. Or maybe she did and balance had eluded her. One of the two had to be true or else she wouldn't have spoken of liberty as she had last night.

He grew up with a rather convincing example of that particular crisis. His father held great power and subsequent responsibility, hence he was kept away on a nearly regular basis as he defended his lands and thwarted malicious invasions in nearby regions. His father was a creature who had longed for self-determination and he had _never_ found a way to balance the conflicting desires of his life. That was why his son never seemed to be much of a priority.

Flighty dispositions and cravings for varied life experiences had brought his father and Maurus together, both sharing a commonality for personal freedom, though honor had kept his father from achieving that standard to its fullest, unlike Maurus.

But unlike Maurus and much like his father, Kagome had a strong sense of duty and responsibility, honor holding a place of high value within her life. The Japanese have always placed importance on honor and they are a people of customary tradition, which apparently holds true five-hundred years in the future even in the face of prioritized progress. Unless of course, Kagome was simply an anomaly while the people of her epoch brushed off responsibility in favor of more freedom and less honor.

Nevertheless, she retained such noble qualities despite her temporal position and immense worldly knowledge. He found that these facts equipped him with a rather great deal of respect for the young human woman, especially since the only other person he had known with such cultural know-how was nothing like her.

The combination of this knowledge with the fact that her scent was one of the most pleasing he had ever smelt made for one multi-faceted, but nonetheless frightening conclusion.

He was beginning to like her.

**x x x**

Kagome pulled herself out of the well and hoisted her backpack over her shoulder as she walked to the dark well house entrance. She felt a little sluggish this morning, probably because she woke up much later than she usually did. She wasn't fazed by the fact she had slept-in, but she was a bit flustered over the circumstances that had prompted her to stay up and inevitably wake up at a later hour than usual.

She wanted to listen to Sesshoumaru talk.

His voice was rich and smooth, syllables flowing from his mouth like a silken chocolate delicacy. The usual subdued volume and overall calm nature of his voice combined with the unique inflections of his tones, was soothing to her ears and the depth of his baritone was nothing short of entrancing.

She was beginning to think she could listen to him talk all day.

And that was a bad thing, she presumed.

She sighed, long and hard, as she recalled the twitch of his jaw as he prepared to comment on her remarks. The muscle was taut and his lips tight as he thought about her words and it twitched ever so slightly as though he was grinding his teeth while he formulated a response in his mind. She could see the muscle roll over as he opened his mouth. It was unique and eye-catching—a personal idiosyncrasy that belonged solely to Sesshoumaru.

She never would have thought that a mouth could be so alluring.

She shook her head rather violently as she stepped through the patio door. Before she could yell her greetings as she normally did when arriving home, she was rendered silent by her mother's laughter.

Curiously, she tiptoed to the kitchen and listened as her grandfather mumbled something, her mother's merry laughter overwhelming his raspy voice. A loud _pop_ erupted and she stepped in the kitchen to see what in the hell was going on.

"Kagome!" her mother sang in merriment, a half-empty glass of champagne in her hand.

Her mother was drinking in the middle of the day. She started to worry when a particular lecture on alcoholism came to mind. Had the family money troubles finally taken their toll on her mother's mental health?

"Here, honey, have a glass! You're plenty old enough now." Her mother proceeded to pull another stemmed glass from the cupboard. "I was saving this for when you got your semester grades back. You've been working so hard that I just knew it was going to be a day of celebration!"

"Mom, what's going on?"

"I'll go get it!" her grandfather offered, his tone similar to that of her mother.

Her mother handed her the bubbly liquid, a wide smile spread across her face.

"Remember that foundation that was created a few years back?"

Her mother's hope from that time was too easy to recall. "Yeah. A representative was here a few months back, right? To see if the shrine qualified?"

"Yep," her mother said, trying to control her grin. "We qualified! They sent us a check for 1.8 million yen!"

"A-are you _serious_?" Kagome nearly stuttered, her hands trembling with excitement.

"Here it is!" her grandfather yelled as he shuffled into the kitchen, a crisp cream-colored check in between his fingers.

"That'll," she began, pausing to sip the sweet liquor, "that'll pay off grandpa's medical bills and get us out of debt!" she exclaimed happily.

"Actually," her mother said after taking a long swig of the carbonated wine. "I was thinking that it would pay for two semesters at Tokyo U."

She nearly dropped her glass.

Her mother was the only person on the planet that did things so selflessly for her. No one else had ever been so thoughtful of her, sacrificing their own comfort for the sake of her desires. It was so sweet, but it was her mother. Mothers didn't always think coherently when it came to their children.

That meant that Kagome would have to do it for her.

"No," she said softly, her previous joy dulled with the possibility of regret. "Pay off our debt. Tokyo U can wait."

"Kagome," her mother said sternly, placing her glass on the counter. "I want to do this for you." Her mother grasped her hands, pressing her fingers firmly against her own in a display of affection and reassurance. It wasn't working. "You deserve this and I can give it to you now."

"I can always get a job after community college and save up if it's still important to me to go." She offered a watery smile; obviously lacking in luster as evidenced by her mother's deepening frown. "You're forgetting about that scholarship that has my name written all over it. It'll pay for everything, remember?"

She tried to sound convincing, really she did. She knew she didn't have a cool day's shot in hell, but she'd write that essay and send it out, if only to make her mother feel better. Even if she never saw Tokyo U, at least she'd be able to sleep knowing she made the right decision for her family. Her mother was already paying her current tuition, though cheap in comparison to the four-year university; it still put a huge strain on the family bank account. Her mother had taken out a pretty substantial loan to pay for it. Two million yen was enough to pay off that loan and grandpa's mounting medical bills and so Kagome would make sure that 1.8 million went where it was needed.

She would do it on her own, or not at all—like most things in her life.

"Oh, Kagome," her mother said, sorrow lacing her voice. In other words, '_let me help you_.'

"Thank you, mama, really. But I can do it on my own. I promise." '_If I can't do it on my own, then it wasn't meant to be._ _There's only so much I can take from you, mama.' _

Her mother smiled as though she could read Kagome's thoughts—the true meaning behind her words. "Alright, honey. I understand. We'll figure it out eventually, okay?" She nodded in response, not trusting her voice at the moment. "We ordered out to celebrate. Do want to come with me to pick it up?"

She nodded in the affirmative, a wry thought taking hold.

"Maybe _I_ should drive."

**x x x**

Her family ate a late lunch, which felt more like supper, so that Kagome could eat with them and still make it back to the Feudal Era before dusk. They were so understanding of her situation, though her mother found something humorous about her current predicament. But she had a wonderful time with her family nonetheless. Everyone was so jovial and it was a nice change to see her mother without worry veining from the corners of her eyes. It felt more carefree than ever, reassuring her that she had indeed made the right decision. But by the gods she was tired of wanting and choosing to sacrifice.

Maybe she really did want too much, but right now, she wanted someone out there to care about her like her mother did.

Well, that wasn't necessarily true. Shippou loved her like a sister. Miroku and Sango loved her like a friend and Inuyasha, he loved her like…like… Well, she wasn't sure _how_ he loved her, but he did. If she was a gambling woman she'd wager that he loved her like a best friend loves his platonic counterpart.

A strange thought crossed her mind then as she entered the well house, one in which she couldn't explain. She suddenly wondered what Sesshoumaru thought of her.

It shouldn't matter to her as long as he didn't kill her, but somehow the importance of his perception managed to slither into her psyche like a venomous viper, threatening to strike with its profound significance. His thoughts were just that—deep and encompassing—and she had to admit that it would be a rare honor if he were to think well of her.

She shook her head as she rearranged her heavy backpack on her shoulder, silently hoping he liked her offerings. She was becoming too acutely aware of a subtle desire within herself to please him and that fact, combined with her previous hope that he carried a favorable view of her, made her a bit uneasy. He probably felt indifferently about her and would probably find the books sufficient and nothing more. Either way, she really shouldn't care.

But that didn't stop her from caring.

Nor did it halt her wishful thinking.

Oh, gods, she was a mess!

Without another thought, she leapt into the well, allowing the soft blue light to engulf her as she succumbed to its timeless embrace, not wishing to think of such things beyond her control. She would leave it to Fate, though that decision, too, was not hers to make. The Fates obviously derived some sort of sadistic pleasure out of her chaotic life, so she was basically throwing all to the wind and letting them bring it as they pleased. They would mess with her regardless.

She was beginning to wish they had never brought her to Sesshoumaru. She was blessed with a rare insight into the aloof demon's life, yes, but there were other, less obvious, consequences.

Like the fact that his gaze alone made her skin tingle. His voice haunted her mind and made her crave his attention, if only to hear him speak. After noticing how his jaw tightened and relaxed before speaking, her damn eyes were always glued to his damn face!

She was sensing the upcoming onslaught of confusion and did her best to push it from her mind. The black haze cleared as dimming blue skies greeted her, dusk nearing its daily birth. She took a long, shaky breath as she refocused her mind from its previous musings. She decided to blame it on his looks. A handsome man could turn a level-headed girl like herself into a sputtering fool. Kagome vowed not to let that happen. He was still the cold-hearted assassin, Sesshoumaru.

Too bad she wasn't more persuasive, even to herself.

She really needed to go on a date or something when this was all said and done. Those devious little hormones were now playing tricks on her mind and that could not be good.

She pulled herself toward the open sky, the vines reluctantly supporting her weight as they creaked in protest. She was almost at the top when a clawed hand appeared before her eyes, offering silent assistance. She was about to yell at him in hurt and anger since he disrespected her wishes, until she noticed something.

There were no stripes on his wrist.

Her eyes traced his claws up his arm until a bright red haori became painfully visible.

"Take my hand," he said softly. "I'll help you."

Her hand clasped gently onto his of its own accord as she stared at him, mouth agape in shock or happiness, she wasn't sure which. Maybe it was both, but in that moment, she gave freely to him and he returned the gesture, as he brought her feet to the grass in one fluid pull.

"Inuyasha," she said, her voice but a faint whisper on the breeze—lost within the warmth of summer and the death of day.

**x x x**


	14. Chapter 14

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 14:**

"Since when have you acted so surprised to see me?" he asked, a tone of amusement highlighting his voice.

"I-I," she stumbled, her mouth running dry, not really knowing what to say. "It's just…that…"

"That you're in a hurry to get back to Sesshoumaru?" He dropped her hand then as he turned accusing eyes on her, bequeathing a fiery sense of injustice.

Her blood ran cold with guilt, despite his heated glare.

"Y-you," she began, fear threading through her spine by way of an icy needle. "You-you know about that?"

"I knew that same night you found him," he said with a hint of exasperation, his eyes softening though he tried to maintain his ire.

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. She was never a very good liar and Inuyasha had an impeccable ability to scent out a lie, however white and inconspicuous it may be.

"You reeked of his blood."

She hadn't touched him, had she? No, but the ground had been saturated with his blood and she had approached him. A horrible misstep that she hadn't noticed, not until Inuyasha said something. She could be a real ditz sometimes.

"You're angry then?" she said softly, diverting her eyes to the increasingly interesting grass at his feet.

He sighed, loud and obnoxious, like he always did when confronted with frustration of this kind—the kind he _couldn't_ control.

"I don't want to be mad at you anymore," he said softly, sincerity and concern weaving through his voice like a beautiful tapestry in the making. Funny, she had never thought him beautiful before.

She met his eyes again, thoughts evading her as she focused on his tired face, awaiting his words with excited and dreaded anticipation, like a first-time mother, unsure of what pain and joy were to befall her.

"I was mad," he began as he took a seat on the rim of the well, "like I was when you told me you'd be home more 'cause of school." He took a deep breath as she held onto hers for all it was worth. "But I got over it. You're gonna leave when it's all over. I don't wanna waste our remaining time because I'm pissed off. I guess," he sighed again with an exaggerated exhale, "I guess this is kinda the same, huh?"

He lifted his eyes to meet hers once again and his gaze was so penetrating that she felt bare under its intrusion, unable to fend off his uninvited inquisition and terribly afraid of what he might discover. He lowered his eyes to his hands as a small smile, not genuine in any sense of the word, lifted the corners of his mouth.

"I wanted to kill him," he whispered darkly as he rubbed his thumb over the knuckles of his left hand. "When you went home to get supplies, I was _going_ to kill him."

"What stopped you?" she asked, her voice faint and hoarse, exhaustion slowly creeping to the forefront of her mind. She really didn't want to deal with this, especially not now.

"He wouldn't have known that _I_ did it."

She looked at him for a moment, one ear twitching in agitation as he slouched further over the well. She just didn't understand it at all any more. She once thought that Inuyasha had every right to loathe his odious and biased brother, but now…she just wasn't so sure anymore. Another helping of confusion added to her daily life just didn't seem prudent, but that didn't stop those empty calories from accumulating nonetheless.

"After he woke up, I figured out pretty quick that he couldn't remember a damned thing. That made a fight pretty meaningless. But then, I got curious," he said, tearing his hungry eyes from her. "I wanted to know why you were helping what I thought was _our_ enemy."

She inhaled sharply, preparing herself for the worst. If he had known all along, then he must have been watching if he was trying to uncover her intentions. He must have heard everything she had said to the unconscious taiyoukai…

"_I wonder if your brother will hate me for this—helping his second most hated enemy in all the world."_

"I heard you talk to him," he said, crestfallen, his voice softening as his guilt took hold, "while he was asleep. I felt my heart crack." He closed his eyes tightly as though he was fending off tears, but she knew better—he wouldn't cry no matter how profound his hurt. "Then you told him why."

"_You've saved us all once, some of us twice. So it's only fair I return the favor."_

Her eyes widened as her heart stilled, her breath a shallow entity, frozen within her lungs.

"_I hope he never finds out, but if he does, it'll be okay. You see, it hurts me every time he sees Kikyou. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I can't accept his love for her. What I mean, is when he looks at me and sees her. He called me her once, when he kissed me. But he doesn't need to know that. If he ever finds out, I'll tell him it was for him and your little girl. You stopped his rampage that day—saving his life and my heart. You killed Mukotsu. I owe you, Sesshoumaru."_

She felt the undeniable need to justify her actions while she was tending to his wounds because she _knew_ that it was a kind of betrayal to Inuyasha, no matter how illusory. So she talked it out verbally, as unfortunate as that had turned out, but the truth of the matter was that she really did do it for Inuyasha and Rin. The whole Kikyou monologue held a degree of truth as well, a dark musing really, to ebb the sharp edge of betrayal and to perhaps use at a later time had Inuyasha found out and become unjustly enraged—she would counter him through that example. She didn't help Sesshoumaru to even the score with Inuyasha, though. She wouldn't even consider letting him think that was the ultimate truth behind her motives.

"It wasn't a game, Inuyasha," she said evenly, her previous fear melting as their eyes met and her blood warmed with a sense of righteousness. "I stood there and looked at him for a while, not sure what to do. I was so indecisive. But then I clearly remembered a series of events that you could not possibly recall. I remembered him holding his sword back so not to kill you as you repeatedly lunged at him. Blood hung from your claws and you were so out of it that you couldn't even speak. You just kept coming at him, no matter how much you bled. I thought you were going to kill yourself or he was going to kill you—either way, you'd be dead. Then he knocked you out and he told me how to reverse your transformation while I cried over your body, thinking he would kill you. But he didn't and he left without another word. I was grateful and in a way I guess I felt indebted to him. So I helped him."

"I know," he whispered, his voice seemingly forced from his lungs.

"I was afraid of your reaction if you were to find out. I _knew_ you would be hurt. So I justified it to myself. I take no pride in using Kikyou as a justification. But god, Inuyasha, it hurts."

"That was one of the reasons I let you help him. But damn, Kagome, you spoke to him like a friend. Like he'd _understand_."

"He was unconscious!" 

"Weren't you even afraid of what he'd do once he woke up?"

"I figured he'd still be too injured to hurt me. I was right."

"It was still too risky, Kagome. Not to mention all the hungry youkai wantin' a piece of an injured taiyoukai."

Did he…actually…protect them? She refused to think about it or else she might lose all incentive to finish this conversation. It held the potential to bruise and she needed to be prepared to be angry with him in case he decided to mount his high horse and do something stupid.

"But it worked out, so it doesn't matter."

"I just wish you would've talked to me about it, that's all. I thought we were friends."

"We _are_ friends! And you wouldn't have understood."

"I knew you'd say that! That's why I took the time to think it through before I even approached you. Things were so tense as it was; I didn't want to upset you by doing something rash."

How…thoughtful of him. She really wasn't accustomed to such thoughtfulness on Inuyasha's part and it was especially hard to believe that the all-mighty steed was stabled when Sesshoumaru was involved.

"Because," he began slowly, a ghostly shadow skimming across his eyes, "because it could all end at any moment and I've never told you how I feel."

She stilled as all the possibilities ran through her mind. She didn't want to consider any of them, not when she'd been in denial for so long. Ignorance, as frustrating as it could be, also possessed a blissful quality that she was reluctant to forfeit. But Inuyasha had never been more mature, she thought, and spoken with such candidness about his feelings. This _was_ a nice change, but why did it feel so foreboding?

"There never was a choice to be made, Kagome. I could never choose between you and Kikyou. It's never been like that. I've never _really_ mixed you guys up. I know better than anyone that you two were completely different people. I just can't help it when I see her in you. The funny thing is that the most similar thing about you two is the fact that I could never have either one of you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her breath hitching as a shadow fell upon her, darkening her body to accompany her mind as it consumed this upcoming dread. She didn't want to consume it—she didn't think she had the strength to digest it.

"_I must accept the inevitable changes that will occur around me."_

Her eyes fluttered closed as she allowed Sesshoumaru's words to engulf her, like a child's blanket, enveloping her with a warm sense of security. She _would_ live through this—she _had _been living through this. She had long ago heard this bittersweet truth knocking, but now it was time to open the door and invite it in.

"She's dead and you're five-hundred years in the future. I think I was meant to die on that tree."

Kikyou had once told her that she didn't belong here, in this time, and she had accepted that truth. After all, she had never once questioned the elder miko's wisdom. Perhaps it was better this way. He was practically paving her way to the well and truth be told, she wasn't so adverse to easing her way back to modern-day Tokyo.

But that's not _exactly_ what he meant…

The dying sun shone red as she realized the truth, like a soon-to-be widow, opening the door to uniformed officers in the dead of night.

He never intended to walk away from this.

"You've planned on dying this whole time, haven't you?" she asked softly, the light of day fading, taking with it the last slivers of luminance within her.

"_I must adapt."_

The world was not hers to control, no less the heart of a mystical hanyou five hundred years in the past, his kind long forgotten and near extinction—it was a truth long awaiting acknowledgement in her life. And now that she had finally nodded toward it in recognition, it was time for her to figure out where to go from here. But she had known this outcome was undeniable even if the formula was off—the well led _home_, did it not?

He smiled briefly in appreciation of her remarkable intuition and unspoken understanding, knowing that their bond transcended blood and spirit, but not an old, dry well whose magic was interwoven within the fabric of time. No, their bond was temporary, meant to forge reluctant allies within a fragment of two lives—finite and far from timeless.

"I figure Naraku has a pretty good chance of taking me out. But you better believe I'm gonna take that son of a bitch down with me!" he said with a clenched fist. "If he doesn't, then my grave is still marked."

_Kikyou… _It was a love before her time and beyond her comprehension. Two beings so helplessly in love and so horrifically betrayed that rage permeated the grave and animated a soulless shell, hell-bent on exacting revenge. So in love he was, that he repeatedly sought her after she tried to kill him, ignored the fact that she tried to murder his best friend and openly embraced her when she offered him hell. It was infinitely timeless and tragically encompassing—a love without opposition.

Inuyasha was never hers to have.

But she already knew this, in that deep, dark place of her mind that she so rarely and begrudgingly visited. The place where that sometimes damnable intuition stored unwanted truths. She must accept and adapt to these things beyond her control—it was the only way she could move on.

"I'd be selfish to ask you to stay. We don't even know what the hell's gonna happen 

when the jewel's completed. You might not have a choice. How can I even think of being with you when that possibility is up in the air? I'd be a fool, not to mention the fact I'd be marring my honor."

"_I strove to match his control and resolve so I too would not mar my honor."_

"How so?" she asked as she shook the remnants of Sesshoumaru's words from her mind. This was perhaps the most important conversation she had ever had with Inuyasha and she was thinking of his damn brother! She felt low, really low.

"I promised to go with her to hell. It'd be greedy to undermine my oath to be with you.

And I don't wanna do something dishonorable 'cause it's convenient at the time to do it."

"_Greed makes one take short cuts. Convenience, he had said, is never worth the price of honor."_

Why were his words so reminiscent of Sesshoumaru's? "I've loved you for a long time, Kagome, but the truth is that I'm not even sure how I love you. That's not fair to you. You deserve someone who can love you fully. I can't—my soul is already claimed. Your time is better for humans anyhow. It's best that you go back if you have a choice. I refuse to be an obstacle to your happiness." 

"You love her _that_ much?" She knew it was wrong of her to ask, but some deviant part of her mind wanted him to say that he loved her more than Kikyou. But that wasn't true and his soul would never find peace until he fulfilled his vow to her.

He froze, but she continued, all the while realizing that it was also a testament of his love for her to think of her happiness over his own.

"I understand, Inuyasha, and I admire your selflessness in this situation," she said, liquid sorrow burning behind her eyes as the reality of the situation finally sunk to a depth more than necessarily sufficient. "I was so upset when you said her name after you kissed me. I should have seen the truth. The love between you two was tragic—it suffered a premature death. You simply acted on instinct, because it should have been her you were kissing. I wish we would have had this conversation a while back."

Kissing her was a betrayal to Kikyou; just like helping Sesshoumaru was a betrayal to Inuyasha

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly have all my thoughts together on the topic. So talking about it wouldn't have had any purpose."

"_Talking holds no significance if it has no purpose. You would do well to learn that."_

Inuyasha was saying something, but it fell on deaf ears, and her sadness wasn't so permeating anymore as it floated away on the breeze...with Inuyasha's words. Despite her best efforts to pay attention to him, she found herself recalling things that seemed virtually unimportant until now.

"_It _is_ you—Sesshoumaru!"_

"_Indeed. I've quite missed you as well…_little_ brother."_

They had met before, seemingly more than once. Inuyasha never spoke of his brother's presence in his childhood, but Inuyasha rarely spoke of his past. They had known each other, that was for sure, but what was Sesshoumaru's role in the young Inuyasha's life?

"_These human creatures—I should think you'd had enough of them. Or is it a taste from father?"_

"_You couldn't have come all this way to tell me _that_!"_

They hated each other. Sesshoumaru appeared to hate Inuyasha because of his human blood, but why did Inuyasha hate Sesshoumaru? She always assumed it was because Sesshoumaru taunted Inuyasha as a child for being a hanyou and that perhaps he had tried to kill him on several occasions. Had Sesshoumaru tried to kill Inuyasha before she had met him? If so, why wasn't he dead?

"_Certainly these feelings of mercy of yours are not something I inherited from our great and terrible father. When it comes to humans, I, of course, bear no such weaknesses."_

"_To Inuyasha, his half human heritage has been a curse."_

"_For someone like Sesshoumaru, who could only hate humans, wielding the Tetsusaiga was impossible."_

But she had seen Sesshoumaru wield the Tetsusaiga, even if it was with a human arm.

"Hey! Are you even listening to me?" 

"Inuyasha, when did you first meet your brother?"

"What? Why is _that _important, especially at a time like this?"

"Please, Inuyasha, answer my question."

"I don't really remember. I mean, he came around every now and then to beat me up. I remember this one time he chased me for hours. I was so afraid he was gonna kill me!"

"_Training begins with conditioning after all."_

"Have you ever heard of an inu-youkai named Kazuma?" 

"No, why?"

"_Will you tell me about him? Your uncle?"_

"_His name was Kazuma and he raised me… He was so apathetic that I could never tell when he was feeling or if he was feeling at all. But he did…" _

"_Did he love you?"_

"_I'm not sure."_

"After he chased you, what did he do on other visits after that?"

"I don't see how this is important!"

"I promise you, Inuyasha, that it's very important. So tell me, _please_?"

He sighed. "The next time he made me hide from him, saying he'd kill me if he found me. Then he gave me an old bokken and beat the hell outta me with it!"

"_My father gave me a bokken then. I practiced nonstop hoping to impress him. He didn't seem to notice. But my uncle thought it foolish of him to let me use a practice tool as a plaything. He was quick to take it from my hands."_

"Inuyasha, do you think he was trying to train you?" 

"Feh," he scoffed. "More like trying to beef me up so he could kill me without staining his honor!"

"He taught you other things, though, right? Like the importance of honor?"

"Sort of, I guess."

"_Tradition stands as it does for a reason—to remind us what has worked in the past..."_

He was carrying on Kazuma's tradition. It was all he knew.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe he didn't hate you?" 

"Then why'd he always remind me that I'm a half-breed!"

"_Perhaps the one who most resembles the father is not Sesshoumaru, but Inuyasha."_

"_As for my father, I know I look like him and that his presence lingered for days even when he was gone. But that is all."_

She was missing something. The pieces were sitting before her; she simply had to find where they all fit together. Sesshoumaru wasn't born hating humans, nor did he hate them as much as he claimed. That meant…something happened. Something that made him _want_ to hate humans. His father was the most powerful being he had ever known and, at one point, he wished to emulate him—a demon that had, for obvious reasons, not hated humans.

"_He told me that my father didn't hate me. He just didn't know how to deal with me. It is a consequence of his own inadequacies, not your own, he had said. Then he told me that he didn't hate me either, or else he wouldn't be taking care of me as he had been."_

"_He should have been there, but Kazuma said that I would be past my prime had I waited on him. His position always kept him away."_

His father ignored him and Inuyasha was probably similar in some way to their father. Sesshoumaru had eventually grown bitter toward his father, a mystical heirloom furthering his hatred. Combine that sentiment with a developed hatred of humans and the conclusion was that he despised Inuyasha, though his hatred was not nearly as solid as he had wished it.

"_He taught me many things, but personally, through our interactions, he taught me that the deepest love and most fervent hate are thinner than the width of rice paper."_

He wanted to hate Inuyasha—he _tried_ to hate him, but the line was so thin that it hardly constituted existence.

"_Then I would presume that these concepts are equity-based in theory, but not in practice… Basically, your future relies on illusions of what ought to be…"_

Sesshoumaru understood illusions—he lived one. He _should_ hate Inuyasha in theory when taking into account his life before Inuyasha, but in practice, he fell far short of his goal. Otherwise, Inuyasha _ought to be_ dead.

But when did he start hating humans? Was it his uncle's doing or the fact that his father impregnated one? She figured it would have to be a combination of those two things, since children didn't always take their caretaker's words to heart. And Sesshoumaru had said that Inuyasha inherited an affinity for human females from their father as though he had not.

What was she missing? 

"Kagome, what's goin' on?"

"Inuyasha, if you knew from the start that I was lying, why tell me now?" This was definitely a point of curiosity and now she wondered if it had something to do with the current topic of conversation.

"Miroku had a little run-in with Sesshoumaru at the village. A man stabbed Sesshoumaru and lived to tell the tale. I think being around you has been good for him. Maybe it'll change him a little. I mean, he _is_ my brother. I don't really know him all that well and if there's a chance to change him for the better, then I won't stand in the way."

He had spoken briefly of that and she had seen his bloodied back. He _was_ changing it would seem, but she wasn't the reason, or at least she didn't think so. A little girl had sparked the beginning of that transformation.

_Rin…_ If his bias had been ingrained from youth, then it would be a genuine hatred. So why would he take a little human girl into his care? That had long been a mystery to her.

"_Or is it a taste from father?"_

Honor ran in the family, so maybe an attraction to human females did too.…

If that was the case, then why did he act like he hated humans?

People learn prejudices at a young age or…from experience…

"Hitomi was beautiful…" 

He hadn't spoken of the woman named Hitomi at any length. Was she the key to unraveling this mystery? If she was pivotal in proving that Sesshoumaru had never truly hated Inuyasha, then that could only mean one thing…

She was human.

"Inuyasha," she said breathlessly, "I think we've had your brother all wrong."

**x x x**

He secured the towel tightly around his waist, vaguely aware of the droplets of water still clinging to his skin, but he didn't pay it any mind—not when Kagome's scent was nearing. His shoulders suddenly felt less burdensome.

"Sesshoumaru?" 

The moonlight was subtle tonight, he thought as he rounded a patch of trees, all the while wondering what took Kagome so long to return. It had been evening for quite some time now and she had left before noon.

He saw her back the moment he rounded the bend, her yellow pack sprawled out on the ground as her fingers twitched at her side. He noticed her clothing was different than what she usually wore, which she had defined as jeans and a t-shirt. Tonight, however, a strange white top clung to her torso, secured from around her neck and dark blue cloth hugged her hips as it traveled the length of her legs to flare out at her calves in wide cuffs. He could see the curve of her hip.

And he wished he hadn't.

She whispered his name as she turned to him; the syllables so delicately annunciated that he could hardly recognize it as his name. Her face immediately lit afire as her eyes darted to the ground. "I-I was looking for you."

Why was she suddenly acting so shy? She had never acted as such before. The only time she blushed like that was when she was embarrassed and that usually accompanied some sort of bodily consciousness on her part. Was it because he wore only a towel around his waist? Was it possible that she could feel self-conscious for other people? It seemed plausible, but explanatorily lacking.

"How was your visit?" he asked conversationally, though what he really wanted to know was what had kept her away. For some reason, the thought of directly asking her that particular question seemed implicit of something he was reluctant to explore.

She was surprised by his inquiry. Funny, he was under the impression that they had already crossed the line between acquaintances and friends.

"F-fine," she stuttered. "It was fine."

She mustn't be feeling forthright, he thought as he surveyed her odd attire once more. Curiously, she blushed harder.

"Why do you look different today?" It wasn't just her clothes. Her lips were glossy and looked even plumper than before and the bone at her brow was accentuated with an earthy color. A copper ringlet with blue flora painted on its rigid surface hung nonchalantly around her wrist, the trinket spilling over onto the top of her hand. The only thing that remained the same was her hair, and even that ensnared his eyes as soft, dark waves rolled down her shoulder gently and uninhibited.

"Oh," she said, once again taken aback as her fingers subconsciously ran through her hair. "I went out with my mother today and we had a nice meal. I guess I just felt like looking nice today." She blushed as her fingers fumbled with the hem of the white cloth, discreetly tugging the material downward.

"Is it customary in your family to dress well for meals?" he asked curiously. The girl had never before seemed too absorbed with her appearance and so the change was interesting at the very least.

"No, not really. Only for special occasions I suppose."

"Had something occurred to warrant a special occasion?"

A smile stole her lips then. "Yeah, my mom found her savior in the form of a fat check."

"What does that mean?" he asked while quirking a brow, insinuating his desire for elaboration.

"Oh, right," she said to herself in a chiding voice. "You see, my family owns an ancient shrine and we live on the premises and take care of it. It's costly and time-consuming; not allowing my mother to hold a full-time job, so there's not a lot of money to take care of the family. Since it's so old, the government gives us grants every year to keep up maintenance. There are also a few foundations that give money to sites labeled culturally relevant so that historical buildings never completely fade from existence. A newer one of those foundations added us to their list and sent us a good sum of money. We needed it so much."

"These foundations are philanthropic then?" She nodded, her smile still bright and shining. "Your government provides for you as well to preserve cultural and historic integrity?" She nodded enthusiastically this time. "Interesting."

"Yeah, well, it's not like we're rich or anything, but the shrine would have been sold or torn down if it weren't for the help we receive."

"What does 'full-time job' mean?" he asked, despite realizing he was veering off topic. He couldn't help it though; everything she said was just so damn interesting.

"Remember that book you read? Well, people like my mom, who don't have much capital, have to trade their labor for capital to people who own lots of capital. That's then called her 'job' and the trade-off of labor for capital is called her salary, or, in some people's case, wages. Wages are not as desirable as salaries because your labor is traded for a lesser amount of capital and it's implied that your job is less secure. But mom's job is also part-time. You see, in my era, people have expected amount of hours they work per week. The standard for women is about forty hours per week whereas men usually work more. My mother, however, works half that time since she's taking care of her family and the shrine on her own. She's got a lot of responsibility."

What an interesting way of doing things. At least people seemed to be kept busy and out of trouble. Then again, who watched the children? He supposed women still did because they 'worked' fewer hours, but it was still a substantial amount of time since children tended to be such cumbersome creatures. But she did say her mother worked half the time while still managing all those other daunting tasks. How did they live such a strained existence?

"You mother works half the expected time so your family must struggle, correct?"

"Yes," she replied with a sigh, her smile finally fading. "That's why these grants are so important. They help us survive."

It was like a social fail-safe—something nonexistent in these times. It seemed the future held many surprises. But why did she suddenly seem so discontent? Was it because her mother was not a thriving capitalist? Or did it remind her of her dead father that had presumably and unintentionally left her family in this uncomfortable predicament? He thought better of asking her.

"Does it bother you to be financially disadvantaged? It does seem prestigious in your world to have capital after all." He wondered how she'd respond to such an open-ended question. How did she feel about her life five hundred years away?

"No. My mother is so inspiring. I'd crumble under so much pressure," she responded flatly while he questioned the truth behind her statement. "It's just…just that again I had to give up something that I wanted." That piqued his interest to an even higher plane than it had already occupied. He waited patiently for her to continue.

"I want to go to Tokyo University so badly, but we can't afford it and my high school grades pretty much disqualify any scholarships, which would pay for it otherwise. My mother offered it to me today and I declined it."

She valued her schooling. How interesting, though not surprising.

"What are these schools?"

"High school is the last completely government-funded schooling we get. After that, there are universities that you have to pay for that give you an even higher level of education in which you chose a specialized field of concentration. It prepares you for a really good job."

"Were those tests from your high school then?"

"No, I finished already. Since my grades weren't so great I had to enroll in community college so that maybe a real university would accept me. Think of community college as a bridge between high school and university that acts as a reconciliation between the two for less than perfect students."

"So I take it these grades are merely marks given by your teachers in order to assess your knowledge in a particular area of study?"

She nodded.

"You don't strike me as stupid. Why were your marks so poor?"

The atmosphere seemed to swirl with confusion then as her head drooped in accordance with her slouching shoulders. Did his question upset her?

"I had other obligations," she said softly, her tongue darting out to taste her lips. Her tongue looked soft, a distinct contrast to his preconceived notion of it being as sharp as a razor. Again, curiosity gripped him as a strange thought crept into his mind.

He wondered what her tongue would feel like…

He shook his head as his previous thoughts on her education vied for dominance with his new and absurd musings. However, she interrupted him before he had the chance to speak.

"I brought some books," she said off-handily as she squatted down and unfastened the metal buckles of her pack. "I tried to cover as many topics as I could, but I didn't bring any focusing solely on history. I thought that wouldn't be wise. I hope you don't mind."

He approached her as she pulled each book from her bag, stacking them neatly in a vertical pile.

"I've got a lot, though," she said merrily as he read the word 'art' from one of the more colorful covers.

"What is that?" he asked as she set a thickly bound book in a new pile.

"Psychology," she said excitedly. "It's my area of concentration in school. It's the study of the mind. It's pretty complicated, well, at least the organic part of it is, but it's really interesting."

That was her interest in schooling? Perhaps he would read that one first.

He was standing mere inches from her and so he was able to sift through each scent that clung to her body, though he wasn't sure what compelled him to do so—perhaps it was that burning need to know what took her so long to return to him. Her natural scent was dominant of course, but it was laced with other scents as well. He could smell the faint remnants of her last meal, her soap, and something unnaturally fruity. He uncovered a trace amount of another, older, feminine scent, which he figured must be her mother, but the outer most foreign scent, indicating the last thing she truly made contact with, was very male…and part youkai.

He tensed, his shoulders once again taking on a rigid countenance.

This left him perplexed. Why was he reacting in such a way? It was subtle, yes, but remained indicative of an unnatural attachment to the human female. Or was it natural? When he thought on it a moment, he realized that he had not previously been in female company for any length of time. Perhaps it was an instinct never before tapped because he had never been in a situation such as this before. Either way, he didn't know what to make of it.

Nonetheless, he was still bothered by this bewildering tension, and his frustration further mounted upon realizing that somehow, somewhere, he knew this scent gently intertwined with hers. Though he had no mental picture to summon, Sesshoumaru inferred that his brother was a likely candidate seeing as how they were companions.

He knelt down to get another, fuller inhale, just to be sure.

She moved as he sniffed, her hair brushing across his nose.

"_Oh_! What _are_ _you doing_?" she exclaimed, her surprise and fright causing her to fall over onto her bottom, her hands finding the earth behind her back as she maintained her upright position. She was facing him with her left knee propped up and her breathing erratic, and just as his mind was about to embark upon all the possibilities, her eyes drifted down his stomach and suddenly he, too, become rather preoccupied with his own breathing.

"There're stripes on your hip," she said softly as his eyes followed hers to where his towel had begun its descent.

"And?" he asked as a strange burning erupted in his belly as he waited unabashed for her response. He always seemed to be wondering how she'd react to things.

"I think you need to put some clothes on," she scolded as she scooted away from him and sat up straight with her legs crossed under her.

He stood, unable to prevent and ultimately unconcerned about the deviant smirk that took hold of his face as he made his way to a neat little pile of clothes that she had folded that morning. He pulled the blue shirt over his head with ease, marveling at how less cumbersome these clothes were to his old ones. There were no straps for his fingers to fumble over.

"You were sniffing me, weren't you?" she asked suddenly as her eyes remained strayed from him.

"Yes," he said flatly as he readjusted the stretchy band of his 'sweats.'

"May I ask why?"

"You smelt different. I wanted to make sure my nose hadn't deceived me."

"What does that mean?"

"It just seemed unlikely that a male inu-hanyou had come into direct contact with your body. Apparently, it was not such a far-fetched notion."

He swore he could feel her nervous energy overwhelm even the forest creatures as he sauntered back to her, taking a seat across from her on the grass so that he could aptly see her face. Was this uncomfortable for her as well?

"Was it my brother?"

"Yes," she whispered, again looking away from him.

Confusion was ripe and her sorrow obvious, making him unable to forsake the topic until he understood why his brother made her feel so much.

"Do your obligations that hindered your ability to properly study have to do with him?"

"Yes."

"What _are_ your obligations to my brother?"

She still would not look at him.

"I promised to stand by his side."

Her face drooped farther, if it was possible.

"You belong to him then?"

He could hear her heart begin to race.

"No."

"Does this concern the reason for your purpose here?"

She nodded, her heart skipping a beat this time.

"If I," she began, her tongue finding her lips again. "If I tell you something personal, may I ask you an intimate question as well?"

What a strange proposition, he thought as his eyes followed every movement of her mouth in hopes to see her tongue again. He felt very out of himself at the moment and so very curious as to what she was going to say that he responded suddenly, before he even had the chance to ask himself what she could possibly want to ask him.

"Yes," he said automatically, not even dwelling on it in fear of the regret that may ensue.

"I was in love once. But he could never make up his mind about how he felt for me. His heart was with another though, and it made me feel terrible. As shameful as it is, I took solace in the fact that he couldn't have her, but that didn't seem to make him want me more. I just kept waiting and wanting, hoping for the day when he'd finally chose me."

Her face was the sublimation of longing to disappointment, happiness vaporizing into a mist of hurt.

"That day never came, did it?" He regretted his summation once the first tear fell.

"I shouldn't be sad. I've always known how much he loved her and I was there the night he promised to go to hell with her. He's too honorable to renege his vow and truth be told, I wouldn't want him any other way. He's wonderful just the way he is, even if that means I can never have him."

He was no fool. She was speaking of his brother—that much he knew. But why did that knowledge make his chest tighten? This could not be healthy, he thought as he recalled shoulders that refused to relax.

"Perhaps it is better this way," he said as he conjured up images of Kazuma's hand on his shoulder, the smell of fine sake overwhelming him with a sense of finality. "Time is favorable to you, but not to him. Trust me, it's better this way."

"Why is my pain better than my happiness?" she asked, distress coloring her voice.

"That's not what I'm saying. He is hanyou and hence it is doubtful he will live to see your time. You were born in a different era and that is where you belong. Time alleviates all hurt and it is favorable to you, for when you go home he will not be there to remind you of what you are missing. In the end, he would have been unable to have you."

A fit of sobs raked through her body then, the scent of loss almost too much for him to bear. That was when he realized that Kagome's feelings were so intense they seemed to materialize into tangible entities, so real they were inescapable to all in their presence.

Her pain was so sharp and true he thought he was bleeding.

"H-have you ever been in love, Sesshoumaru?" she quipped in broken syllables.

"I once thought I was, but…"

Her eyes were pleading as she looked to him for some semblance of adjustment and reassurance. He found he couldn't deny her.

"But I learned many years thereafter that I had no idea what constituted love."

"What made you change your mind?"

"I realized that I shared nothing of myself with her, with the exception of some of my time, during which my thoughts were more consumed with having her than listening to her. My father once told me that one cannot love another they do not know. So how can one love someone that doesn't knows them?"

She wanted to know his experiences with love to feel more at ease with her own. That was understandable he supposed, especially considering his age in comparison to hers. But she was about to be sorely disappointed in what he had to say. He had only possessed feelings for one woman, one who could not return his feelings based on her own people's ignorance. He would have thought Hitomi knew better considering she had spent so much time with him, but it would seem her prejudices were planted too deep for even him to uproot. But Kazuma was right as usual and he now felt that it did, in fact, turn out for the best, though his younger self could not see Hitomi's shortcomings as an individual case, but rather as a generalization for humans as a whole. However, in the short time he had known Kagome, he had learned that not all human females were shallow beings incapable of original thought.

He had no beautiful stories of romance to share with Kagome, just a hardened truth. He briefly wondered if tales of romance was what she was looking for, or if she simply wanted company in her misery. Either way, he had something to tell her and he hoped that shared unhappiness was what she desired, because that was all he had to offer.

However, the fact that he was so eager to tell her about his past made him a bit uneasy when it was a topic he had divulged to none before her, or at least as far as he could recall. But the truth of the matter was that he did indeed hold a rather firm sense of respect for her and so this was something he could always give to her without a second thought.

In all actuality, it made him feel slightly warmer knowing there was someone out there he could confide in. He was beginning to think that perhaps she felt the same way or else she would be toting after his brother instead of sitting where she was now.

It was comforting on so many levels to have her sitting across from him now.

For now, he would share the story of Hitomi with her while carelessly brushing aside the meaning behind his last thought as though it had never even crossed his mind.

**x x x**


	15. Chapter 15

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 15:**

_xxx_

After the first time he saw her, he felt compelled to see her again.

The next day, after a futile attempt to sleep and undergoing Kazuma's overbearing lessons, he set out to the human village to seek her out, feeling suddenly rejuvenated despite his restlessness. Something had finally triggered intrigue within his tedious life and since a delectable scent was attached to it, he was more than willing to thoroughly explore this new phenomena.

He found her scent easily among all the other more bland ones and followed it to the outskirts of the village in a heavily wooded area. He heard sweet feminine laughter as a female voice, unbeknownst to him, began counting with loud and obvious intent.

They were playing a game.

He stepped behind a tree when he heard light footsteps echo softly through the forest. He inhaled deeply, all the while listening to her heart race with excited thrums as she played. She jogged past his post and he immediately followed, stalking her in between the trees, completely unnoticed.

It made his blood sing.

He heard the other girl yell in warning that time was up and he made his move, though a small voice in the back of his mind beckoned him to watch her longer. He leapt over her body and landed silently in front of her, her hurried strides causing her to run right into him.

She froze with a gasp.

"M-my…lord," she said quietly, surprise and fear vying for dominance.

He enveloped her in his arms, a shocked yelp tumbling from her mouth.

"Shhhh," he cooed.

He leapt up into a tree, her arms instinctively winding around his neck as she pressed her body to his, searching for some semblance of security. When he found his footing, he realized she was refusing to look at him. He didn't know if it was from a fear of heights or youkai, though he suspected the latter. He hooked his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. He searched her eyes for a moment, marveling at how dark they were, a beautiful harmony in accordance with her extraordinarily dark hair. He found he liked the combination.

He sensed her companion entering the forest then. He smirked a little and turned her around in his arms so she could watch her friend's useless seeking. He leaned over her, her heart racing even harder, and whispered into her ear.

"She'll never find you."

He could hear every shaky breath she took, her body near convulsions with trepidation when he decided to take off into the skies. She clung to him, her scent drowning out all else as he introduced her to his world—a world where the ground was optional and the sky endless, where the wind was envious and the night was paradise. She eventually relaxed and he swam in her wonderment and drank in her joy.

After that, he decided he hadn't had enough.

He saw her nearly every other day, his affection broadening and his desire blossoming. It was becoming rather unbearable by the time he first stole her lips under the stars. After a few months of regular visits, Hitomi left to see a sick relative and was gone for several consecutive days. He hated her absence and couldn't contain himself when she returned. He had crept through her window, a simple cloth, nearly sheer, separating him from his ultimate goal. He had wanted to taste her, _badly_.

His control slipped, ever so slightly, causing her to call him a monster, his reddened eyes and elongated fangs something she couldn't handle, but that didn't stop him from seeing her again. She rebuked him the next time he sought her _and_ the time after that. The third time he refused to accept her absurdity and pinned her to a tree. She tried to deny him for the simple fact that he was youkai, but her body was too ripe for his touch to maintain her distance.

It became a monthly ritual. She would suddenly try to forsake him because he was youkai and he would force her into submission the following day. He found that their little game was enticing, if not out right desirable. There was something so erotic about a woman unable to fend off a hungry male, though she willed it so. He liked the fact that he caused such weakness in her.

She was an exotic beauty, touched by the gods' perfection, for everything she did was graced with her flawlessness. Her speech was eloquent, her gait wondrously feminine, her nature enticingly submissive, and her hands delicate and her neck slender. He thought himself in love, despite his uncle's objections.

Then…it all changed.

It was dusk the following day after another dispute about his blood and it was time to dominate her once again. He was thrilled to say the least. He found her taking a leisurely stroll through an open meadow flanked by trees. He had her back against one of those trees before she even drew a second breath.

"Sesshoumaru!" she squealed in surprise.

"Tell me, Hitomi," he drew out languidly, "does my appearance disgust you?"

She turned away, her lovely, pale neck now open to his liking.

"Answer me," he demanded, pressing her further into the rough bark.

"No."

"Do my fangs frighten you?" he whispered dangerously, his fingertips dragging up her arms.

"Yes."

"Do my claws make you wary?"

He traced a single claw up the column of her neck. She shivered.

"Y-yes," she whispered in a broken breath.

"Do you despise my youkai blood?"

"Yes." She turned her neck farther downward, his head immediately following her movement to linger above her ear as he pressed his body taut against hers.

"Then why do you say you love my eyes? They label me as youkai." He grasped her wrists harshly and lifted her arms above her head, one hand holding them in place as though she was chained to a dungeon wall. "Why do you ask me to take to the skies when you embrace me? That is a youkai ability, Hitomi."

"I-I don't know."

"Why does you body call for me if you loathe me so?" he asked huskily, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. She moaned and he devoured her neck, her body arching into him as her hands fought against their entrapment. He was unrelenting in his torture and she begged for more, her soft pants enough to drive him to the edge of madness.

He released her hands, which found their way into his hair with haste, and he ran his hands down her sides and over her hips until his fingers found her sash. It found the ground the moment he found her lips.

He had finally pushed her to her limits with his not-so-innocent and demandingly persistent ministrations. Today was the day he'd finally have her.

Before another thought could even manifest itself within his mind, he sensed someone lingering at the crest of the forest. He tore his lips away from their happy residence and swiveled his head around sharply.

It was Hitomi's friend, the one who had never found her that day he embarked upon uncharted waters. The girl was shaking and looked rather disturbed, then suddenly she turned on her heel and darted back into the depths of the forest.

"Sakura," Hitomi whispered. "I have to go after her."

"Why?" he murmured against her ear as he pulled her flush against him once more, his nose brushing across her cheek.

"She'll tell!" she exclaimed worriedly as she fought against the weight bearing down on her.

"Stay with me," he whispered as he pulled her even closer, his tongue trailing along her jaw line.

"No."

She pushed again and he obliged her, watching her as she ran into the woods toward her friend and away from him, her purple obi floating behind her. He went home then, a terrible ache lingering in the pit of his stomach.

The following night he learned that Sakura did indeed spill their secret—right into the lap of Hitomi's father.

He located her at the edge of the forest bordering her village; the exact spot he had found her after their initial meeting. She was harder to find that night since her natural scent was hidden under a thick blanket of lavender-scented oil. He briefly wondered why she even bothered with such trivial nonsense since she was well aware of his obsession with her natural scent.

He approached her and quickly realized she had been waiting for him.

"I go to see the matchmaker on the morrow," she said before he even reached her.

He didn't really know what to say, but he wasn't about to let her go without a fight.

"No."

"I have to. This was never meant to be, Sesshoumaru. It was fun, but I'm grown now and so I must accept my responsibilities with integrity."

Why would she brush him off so easily? Perhaps she was simply wishing to be dominated again. She spoke before he made move to corner her.

"You are so alluring and your inhumanity is so interesting," she said as though it was of no importance at all. He didn't like this nonchalant attitude of hers. "But it was a simple curiosity, nothing more."

"Why are you saying this?" He was growing angry—he could feel the hot blood trickling into his veins from a heated heart.

"Sakura told my father about you and he's ending this here and now."

So, she wasn't tossing him aside? He wouldn't let an irrational fear of her own father stand in the way.

"Tell him this will not end and that if he has a problem with it, then he needs to speak with me. I promise you that your father will not deny my wishes." He reached for her, but she sidestepped his advance. What the hell was going on?

"This strange obsession of mine should have ended right when it started, but I was weak. So pathetic I had become that I actually craved the touch of a monster. A beautiful monster you may be, but I refuse to deny my own humanity and succumb to temptation. Evil and destruction are all you know and I cannot be a part of something so vile."

She should know by now that her prejudices were unfounded. She turned from him as though to walk away from her words like they had never been uttered, but they had…

He grabbed her arm and turned her around, fury acting as a mask over his eyes.

"You mean to tell me that you've never felt _anything_ for me?"

"If you exclude lust, then no."

"How could you do this to me, knowing that I care for you?"

"Don't be like this, Sesshoumaru. Surely you have mirrors in your home. You know exactly what I mean."

She was being honest with him… He detected no lies spilling from her lips. His blood was now rushing through his veins with such ferocity that his head was pounding in tune with the thrum of the hurriedly pumping fluid. He didn't know how to handle this—he didn't _want_ to handle this.

"I never thought a youkai could possess such beauty. The art of seduction is your true gift and I nearly fell prey to your depraved game."

"How dare you place blame on me for your desires. I forced nothing on you!"

"Oh, really?" she asked sardonically. "I recall many times you had me pinned against a tree. I don't remember having a choice in the matter."

She was twisting everything and making his natural desires out to be fiendish ploys. He was losing his cool, _fast_.

"I don't remember you fighting me or asking me to stop. I recall you moaning my name and begging for my attention," he whispered lowly as he caught her hands within his. "I could sate your curiosity here and now, Hitomi. I could make you take back your malicious words. I could make you forget your own name while mine is the only word your tongue could conjure." He pulled her hands behind her back and held them tightly as he closed the gap between their bodies.

"Does it enrage you to know that another defenseless girl won't fall into your trap?"

"Trap? How foolish. You should feel honored, girl. This Sesshoumaru has yet to indulge himself with a woman's body, much less deflower one. Was it your father that put this nonsense into your head?"

"Let go of me!" she demanded.

She had never been so adamant about him keeping his distance before.

He released her hands, confusion and anger swirling within his head, throwing his balance off-kilter along with his slipping sanity. He didn't know what to make of this situation, but the need to destroy something was rapidly climbing up his list of priorities.

Then he heard a twig snap and his eyes darted to the trees. He sensed them all around, having not noticed sooner since he was so distracted, and it suddenly dawned on him that her excessive oil application had served a devious purpose.

"_What _are you doing?" he ground out between clenched fangs, Kazuma's words flooding his mind as his mistake manifested itself in the form of several human men.

She gasped and stepped away from him when a few armed men darted out of the forest yelling obscenities at him.

"Get away from her, _demon_!"

An arrow whizzed toward him and he sidestepped it with ease. Red blurred within his vision and before he realized that blind fury had gripped him, nearly a dozen men laid mutilated on the ground.

Hitomi whimpered as his eyes soaked in the ungodly amount of blood. They had deserved to die; they had attacked first with the intent to kill. But she looked…traumatized.

"_Why_?" he asked as he took a step toward her, his anger dulled by unparalleled hurt and the overpowering stench of blood. She looked down at the ground, her face paler than usual as she spoke with quivering lips.

"The ground bleeds where _you_ step foot on it."

He looked down at his wet boots and noticed the blood being forcibly coaxed from the earth by his weight. He could hardly even recall how he killed them. He was angry and confused and he just…he just _needed_ something to suffer as he did.

She was crying and out of habit he reached for her. She turned and ran and it was all over. He felt sick inside, feeling as though he had proven her judgements right, though he knew her father had planned this little escapade in advance.

But her father hadn't forced her to not care for him. She had done that on her own, leaving him to suffer by himself, further testifying her indifference toward him.

She just liked the way he looked and the way he touched her—nothing more. She was a shallow bitch never worthy of his attention from the start. His anger resurfaced and he considered killing her father for his premeditated plot, but decided against it. Men had died for his folly, for a weak human should not to challenge a taiyoukai.

So he left with a mind crowded by rage and a sizable gap lingering in his heart. He vowed never to lay eyes on that pathetic human woman again, but as fate would have it, he'd see her two more times before he could finally be rid of her.

A year later, he caught word of her marriage ceremony. Out of sadistic curiosity he went to the village in the hopes that she'd be wedding some older, sickly looking male that looked as weak as his race was ordained to be. A shallow wench would deserve such.

He hid among some trees as he watched the small yet elaborate ceremony.

The man was older, at least by a decade he presumed, and he was ungodly thin and relatively short. He had a pleasant face, however, and an average scent. There was nothing special about the man in the least, which pleased Sesshoumaru, but there was nothing too damaging about him either, leaving Sesshoumaru slightly miffed. He hoped the man turned out to be a bastard who took pleasure in mistreating his wife.

He then sensed Kazuma behind him. He was a bit surprised that his uncle had followed him and prayed to the gods that Kazuma didn't think him weak minded for watching her wedding.

"What?" he snapped, not minding his tone whatsoever. Kazuma ignored the insult and spared Sesshoumaru a short glance before turning his attention to the ceremony. This was the first time Kazuma had lain eyes on Hitomi.

"I don't understand why you and your father find them so beautiful. She's rather plain in my opinion," he said nonchalantly.

"She is nothing to me."

"Your hatred of them has grown. Don't let one foolish woman cloud your judgement. Despite what I say at times, they all aren't bad."

"Why say this to me now? You were right all along. She was undeserving of me and she did, in fact, curse the very ground I walk upon. Aren't you pleased with your own clairvoyance?"

He was frustrated beyond compare and the burning in his veins was increasing exponentially. As though sensing his internal distress, Kazuma placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly in hopes to reassure him. It didn't work. He wanted her to suffer as he had, but she wasn't. She looked…happy. He found her state of contentment disturbing and wanted to slash that smile off her ridiculously pretty face.

Kazuma spoke before he had a chance to thoroughly entertain that last notion.

"Time alleviates all hurt. And time is favorable to you, but not to her. Trust me, it's better this way."

He couldn't look at him, choosing instead to watch the tipped flasks of sake, his heart burning with its significance—its finalization. Then he watched them kiss and she smiled, dark eyes sparkling. He turned away then, his seared heart left to simmer until its death.

He would see her one last time. Except this time, things were different.

He now had a bastard hanyou brother and a dead father. He was the Inu no Taishou and since the title was inherited while he was still so young, though he looked full-grown, taiyoukai from all around Japan searched him out in the hopes to destroy him and take what was rightfully his.

A scout brought word to him that a bull taiyoukai was approaching the nearby human village, yelling his challenge to the new Inu no Taishou. Three had already come and died, their heads staked and posted along the citadel wall in warning for those foolish enough to initiate a challenge. But another came and certainly more would come, for youkai always seemed to think they were indestructible. Immortality was a term used too loosely among his kind; they _could_ in fact die.

Kazuma followed him to the village for observation purposes only. Since he was considered young among youkai, his uncle continued taking care of the day-to-day activities of the province. He didn't know what he'd do without Kazuma's support.

A loud bang echoed throughout the forest and screams were heard accompanying all the other myriad of deafening noises. Within a few moments, Sesshoumaru and Kazuma arrived in the village square where countless humans ran in fright.

Sesshoumaru assessed his opponent quickly as Kazuma had taught him through his many lessons. The bull youkai was enormous and brute strength was his forte, meaning Sesshoumaru would most likely have to outwit the muscle-bound demon. Bull youkai were also arrogant and quick to anger, quite like an inuyoukai, but their cool wore thin much faster, their emotions lessening their effectiveness. Since this one was a taiyoukai, he must have other specialized abilities making him superior to his peers. Being the breed he was, Sesshoumaru assumed it was most likely an elemental power. He would have to wait and see.

He stepped forward and the ghastly looking creature turned to him, the scents of destruction clinging to his rugged body. He was tall as well as thick, ivory horns protruding outward from his forehead with pink eyes and long, black hair fastened in a topknot. His face was wide and his nose flat and broad with a gold ring pierced through his nostrils. Red dots lined his cheekbones and a huge hammer-like weapon, longer than the bull's full height, was clenched within his left hand. He had hoofed feet that made him look all the more mystical and intimidating.

Sesshoumaru was far from scared.

"Youkai," he called authoritatively. "Your presence here is unwanted, so I suggest you leave immediately before something terrible befalls you."

The bull snorted, a mist of mucus spraying from his flared nostrils.

"I am Tsuimaru," he said in a deep, thunderous voice, "Great Taiyoukai of the northern islands of Japan, of which my ancestors created by merely stepping foot on this land that could not sustain their awesome power!" He lifted his face to the sky and extended his arms as an ear-piercing war cry erupted from the giant's lungs.

He heard Kazuma snicker behind him. This youkai was an idiot, but at least that meant he'd outsmart him easily, thus ending this charade quickly.

"What do _you_ want, little man?" the bull asked mockingly. "I seek the new Inu no Taishou, son of the great and feared inu-taiyoukai that came before him. Tell me where I will find him."

"I am Sesshoumaru, the one of whom you speak," he said flatly, not at all impressed by Tsuimaru's ridiculous monologue. He was much more irritating than the last three.

"Impossible! They say he is larger than a tree and as green as the poison within his veins!" Kazuma chuckled lightly, then cleared his throat in an attempt to stifle his oncoming laughter. Sesshoumaru sighed; he was already tired of this nonsense.

"You mean this?" he asked as he darted forward so fast that his words were lost to the wind. He released his dokkasou when he was within range, but the bull dodged it, apparently faster than he appeared.

"Ha! So you are _he_!" He landed with a loud thud and raised his weapon over his head and threw it into the ground with both hands. Sesshoumaru leapt upward before impact, the weapon's power pulsing within the earth. A menacing vibration reverberated through the land and he heard it suck back within itself and explode like a collapsed vortex. The result was instant as the earth moaned and spewed into the air, the intense shockwave clearing the area within a twenty-foot radius.

Sound was his power, Sesshoumaru realized as he returned to the ground. Before the weapon could be raised again he charged his opponent quicker than the youkai could react, punching him in the gut while releasing his acid simultaneously. The effect was instant as the bull howled and grasped his belly as he skidded backwards several feet. Had he been any smaller, he would have been airborne.

"You will pay for that," Tsuimaru growled as his eyes darkened a deep crimson.

Tsuimaru charged forward, his footfalls so heavy they created a stampede-like effect, resulting in smaller scale shockwaves barreling forward, causing Sesshoumaru to lose his center of balance. However, he still managed to duck once the bull swiped his weapon downward toward his face. Since the weapon was so large, it was nearly unmanageable in such a way, so Sesshoumaru used that opportunity to push his fist through the bull's wounded stomach. An agonized scream resounded, again causing vibrations to pulse through the air, manifesting physically into sharp waves of sound, inducing a painful echo within Sesshoumaru's head. He grunted as he fought off the inclination to cover his ears and pulled his hand back inside the bull's body. He released his poison as he thrust his claws upward, causing the exit wound on Tsuimaru's back to bleed profusely.

Tsuimaru then connected his foot with Sesshoumaru's collarbone and despite his smaller stature, Sesshoumaru remained on his feet as he dug his heels into the ground to slow the incredible momentum of one powerful kick. The bull wasted no time as he struck the earth again with his gargantuan hammer. Feeling slightly vexed over this new development, since he was still sliding across the ground, Sesshoumaru staked his katana into the dirt, finally halting his counterproductive movement while bracing himself against the onslaught of powerful waves. His ears were burning by the time the sound waves ceased rolling over him and he quickly realized the bull was charging again, only this time he was prepared for the stampede effect. Once within range, he threw his youki whip toward his target, ensnaring one of Tsuimaru's horns. The bull bucked his head from side to side and Sesshoumaru responded by pulling his face to the ground. Once he met the dirt, Sesshoumaru leapt over top of him and released a spray of acid downward, but the youkai rolled over just in time. The bull may not be extremely bright, but his persistent strength and precise instincts were advantageous to his extended survival. But the extension was near completion.

Sesshoumaru surveyed his surroundings as Tsuimaru stood, quickly noticing a roped, upturned bucket near a well a hundred meters or so deeper into the human village. He ran for it, a smirk tilting his lips when he heard the bull's thunderous strides following after him. He reached the bucket before his adversary and immediately realized it was empty. With a quick glance into the still very wet well, he chucked the bucket into its darkened depths and flipped backwards over the bull's head just as a thick arm connected with a wooden beam supporting the small structure. It collapsed, but the rim remained in tact.

He whipped the bull repeatedly before Tsuimaru had time to face him, blood now covering the expanse of his back. An idea struck Sesshoumaru then and he immediately released his dokkasou onto his whip, coating it thoroughly and slashed the bull's left wrist. Deep, venomous gashes lined his wrist, the painful acid eating away at the flesh, creating one of the most disgusting scents. Tsuimaru yelled as he subconsciously dropped his weapon to grasp his tortured limb. Estimating the immense weight of the artifact, Sesshoumaru twirled his body into a full circle, extending his whip once complete and connecting with the weapon dead-on at a slightly downward angle, his speed and weight propelling the monstrous hammer into the well.

Splintered wood flew into the air and the well exploded as the waves of sound crashed through the water and into the earth at the bottom. Water spewed into the air, raining down on Tsuimaru. Sesshoumaru immediately appeared in front of the oblivious taiyoukai, using both hands to mold his poison into a ball and then threw it across the short distance at Tsuimaru. When the water met his acid, an explosion erupted, Tsuimaru trapped within. Sesshoumaru leapt backward to a sufficient distance and watched as the bull melted into nothingness.

Too bad he couldn't add the bull's head to his growing collection.

He turned and saw a smiling Kazuma approaching him, though a good hundred meters or so still separated them. He then heard the humans coming out of their hiding places from where they had watched the battle. Humans were such curious and cowardly creatures with pathetic instincts. They should have known better than to remain in harm's way. Morbid curiosity would be the death of them, but it wasn't like he cared. Let them forget self-preservation; that would result in fewer humans to pollute the air with their sickly stench.

"Sesshoumaru?" It was a whisper, faint and feminine, with a slight rasp carved into it by moderate aging. He already recognized the scent, though decay had finally wormed its way into her once delightful scent.

His face hardened as anger renewed, though he would not allow it to take hold of him as he had before. He loathed human women to a degree beyond any other. The bull youkai he had just killed was more worthy of breath in his lungs than the pathetic creature standing behind him now.

He turned and faced her fully, a good twenty years of aging obvious, but not as unkind to her as he would have hoped.

"You've grown. You're so tall now," she said softly, admiration and awe lacing her voice. "I didn't think you could get any more beautiful than you were." She reached out to touch him and he backed away, disgust taking residence on his face. Her audacity was nothing short of hypocrisy, making him want to remove her hand from her wrist just to teach her a lesson. She hated youkai, so she shouldn't touch them unless destruction was her intent, like it had been two decades ago. He would gladly exemplify that model for her by severing her hand, for a human he would never touch, unless to kill them.

"Woman," Kazuma said to the older Hitomi, "didn't your elders teach you any respect? Never address your superiors so familiarly unless you wish to lose your head. You should thank the great and terrible Inu no Taishou for saving the lives of you pathetic humans, for it is not a common occurrence for a taiyoukai to do as such."

Sesshoumaru kept his eyes vacant as he looked down his nose at her as he spoke.

"Bow in respect, wench. Otherwise I may lose my patience along with my leniency," he said darkly, malice lining each word.

Her eyes widened briefly in shock as she planted her knees and forehead to the ground. "Thank you, Great Sesshoumaru-sama. Thank you for saving us all." He could smell her tears and realized he had never felt more disgusted.

"Wench," he said spitefully, "I do not recalling granting you permission to use my given name. You shall address me by my title or suffer the consequences of your disrespect."

"I-I apologize, Great Inu no Taishou-sama, for my disrespect. It will not happen again. Thank you for your aid and leniency, Inu no Taishou-sama."

"I did not kill him to save you humans, stupid wench," he scoffed. He then glanced at the gathered crowd, all of whom were now bowing so low that their heads were inseparable from the dirt. He found he liked them in that position; they were no better than the dirt underneath his boots after all. He raised his voice this time so all could hear as he spoke.

"That youkai challenged my authority and I dealt with him accordingly. Let that be a lesson to all you foolish humans, for you would die much easier than he."

With that last statement, he walked away, Kazuma at his side as they returned home. He would never lay eyes on Hitomi again, her end unbeknownst to him, though he remained rather unconcerned about it.

_xxx_

She wounded his heart when she rebuked him for the last time, it bleeding within his chest only to harden as the years mounted alongside with his bitterness. After his final interaction with her, it died, petrifying to stone within his chest after its slow and inevitable decay. Time, however, had alleviated his pain and anger, though he still felt the urge to sneer at human females every time he saw one thereafter. But he managed to stay away from them for the most part and he found it was simply better to not have to deal with them.

But they had such pretty dark hair and such soft curves…

But that didn't dull his sharp hatred of them. They often regretted their actions when they chose to make advances toward him, though such occurrences were rare due to humans' innate fear of youkai, and so it was infrequent that he had to put them in their place, rather harshly of course. His disgust with their inconsistent lifestyles and moral lapses had faded and indifference replaced it, though at times, when he was forced to deal with them, he felt his rage bubble within, leaving behind an intense desire to drain them of their lifeblood.

But…Kagome…was different.

He looked at Kagome then, her eyes soft and sympathetic, hoping she didn't offer him pity in return for the retelling of his one and only story of love.

"What a bitch," she hissed as her eyes hardened with that beautiful righteous fury, of which he was becoming smitten.

He wanted to laugh in a thrilled sense of relief that her response was not touched by squandered sympathy. Instead, he chose to study her streaked face, content to trace the glistening red lines. He wondered if human women in the future were all as wondrously divergent from the norm as Kagome.

He wondered…

**x x x**

Her mind was running a marathon, except that it didn't stop even after the twenty-six miles were spent.

She kept thinking about Inuyasha, wondering where he was now, though she knew he was journeying out to locate that green toad thing that hung around Sesshoumaru. He had basically let her go today and she didn't know if she was supposed to feel relieved that she finally knew how he felt or melancholy that her previous feelings were denied; all possibilities now closed, like a finished book. She supposed it was better to know rather than continuously wonder, but that fact still didn't dispel the lingering hurt wrought by finalization. But Sesshoumaru was probably right. The pain would fade with time and at least she could grasp onto some semblance of reassurance. She'd never have a physical reminder of him when she returned home for good, but that knowledge didn't dismiss the fact that she wanted to see him again.

Another tear fell and she didn't have the energy to feel pathetic for it.

"What's wrong, Kagome?" Sesshoumaru asked gently.

Her arms broke out into goose bumps and she cried harder. Why did she love his voice so much? Why did she want to spill all her hopes and fears and dreams to him? _Why_? She felt so confused and it only served to make her feel worse. She suddenly felt guilty for wanting to talk to Sesshoumaru and her sobs increased even more despite her knowledge that befriending Sesshoumaru was not necessarily a bad thing. It was just…just that Inuyasha objected to her flowering friendship.

"_But damn, Kagome, you spoke to him like a friend. Like he'd understand."_

Well, he did seem to understand where she was coming from…and he…he listened. He didn't even complain about her tears. He just accepted them as so natural that he didn't even seem bothered by them. Wasn't that fact alone indicative of his understanding?

_Yes._

"It was today that he let me go," she whispered, her tears finally stilling as she succumbed to this new necessity within her—the _need_ and _desire_ to talk to Sesshoumaru and learn how he felt about the world. It had become…important to her. She just felt really bad right now, realizing that she hadn't handled all this as well as she thought she had earlier that day when she _was_ talking to Inuyasha. He had been the center of her life for four years and she had loved him, but things were different now and she was lost as to where to go from here. She briefly wondered if her predicament was worse than Sesshoumaru's had been with Hitomi. At least Sesshoumaru had reasons to hate her, whereas she had no justification to despise Inuyasha or to even be mad at him. And she felt like being angry at something, like it would distract her from her pain. Would things always be this hard?

"Tell me life is beautiful," she begged of him.

Her voice was strained and pleading, as though asking him to spare her life. She felt sicker.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never wavering from hers.

"I cannot tell you that," he said softly, making her want to scream in agonized frustration. "Life is tedious, but seeking our own demise is cowardly. So we must live on as best we can."

She felt it crack under the pressure, her heart finally shattering. She was trying to deal with this, really she was, but it was just so damn hard.

"But…" he began, the breakage within her chest seeming to halt with the sound of his voice. "Life is full of nuances—some bad, some good—but our interpretation of them makes us who we are. Sometimes the gray morphs into color. You must learn to search for the color amongst the gray. That is what makes life worth living."

"W-what do you mean?" she asked brokenly between subtle fits of sobs.

"Kazuma is blue, like the sky," he said distantly. "For the sky is consistent and it is always there, though sometimes dark and sometimes light. Hitomi is red, for she wounded my heart, making it bleed, but she also made my blood move." His eyes refocused on her then. "What color is your mother, Kagome?"

She realized that the tears had completely stopped as understanding found her amongst the sea of confusion.

"My mother, she…she would be brown, like the trunk of a tree. She's my strength and my roots; the base supporting the oxygen that keeps me alive," she said with a watery smile. "My grandfather is bright yellow, like the sun. Sometimes he's annoying like sunlight in my eyes, but other times he's so joyous he warms me from the inside out, reminding that even as the years mount, child-like happiness can be found."

"My father is black like a void, but strong like granite. What color is your father?"

"My father is green," she said with a bittersweet smile, feeling suddenly rejuvenated. "Like soft, sweet-smelling grass between my toes. Natural and beautiful and completely covering the ground of my heart. But gone come winter."

"Your friends?"

She smiled wide now, not knowing from where this newfound sense of contentment sprang.

"Miroku is blue like water. His thoughts are deep and fluid and he's like a cool reprieve from the harshness of summer. Death visibly looms over him, yet he still finds joy in life. Sango is gold-colored. She's beautiful and sometimes soft and sometimes hard. Her sisterly love is precious to me. Shippou is pink, representing my soft spot and filling me loving fluff."

"The foreigner, who I have yet to tell you about, named Maurus, is also pink in my mind. He was a ridiculous idealist, like pink is a ridiculous red. But he was fun-loving like a child, reminding me of a little girl's obsession with the color."

She laughed hard and genuine. "I hope you never see my room!"

He smiled then with a strange look in his eyes and her blood warmed. He just looked so right like that.

"What color is my brother?" he asked softly, the look in his golden eyes darkening ever so slightly, leaving her a bit miffed.

She was happy that he distracted her from her problems, but did he have to ask her that? But…what color would Inuyasha be?

"Red," she whispered.

"Tell me why."

"He's bold and intense like a fiery red. He stole my heart and he bled for me. He protected me and tried to shield my heart from the inevitable wound it would receive from loving him. He's impossible to miss and stands out in my memory like a stoplight telling me to brake. Sometimes, he makes me want to die and sometime to live," she said distantly. "Yes, Inuyasha is red."

The people in life created the nuances that alleviated the monotony of life, like colors amongst a gray backdrop, making the scene worth looking at. But like a shaded color, people vary and consequently affect one's life in diverse ways. Inuyasha cared deeply for her, even loved and protected her. He introduced her to the meaning of love and the importance of fighting for a place in the world, but there were negative consequences to knowing Inuyasha as well. He unintentionally broke her heart and oftentimes made her feel weak and useless and his stubborn nature caused many arguments and frustrations to arise. But the good most definitely outweighed the bad, making Inuyasha an overall wonderful memory. And a memory he would be, for even if he had never released her, she couldn't have stayed. Her mother would have died inside if she had, and this time there would have been no uniformed men to bring her finalization. Yes, Inuyasha was one of her favorite memories.

She wouldn't be the same if his red hadn't stained the gray canvas of her life.

She wondered what color Sesshoumaru would be…

**x x x**


	16. Chapter 16

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 16:**

_xxx_

He leapt over the mossy wall with ease and landed silently, never once breaking his stride as he headed for the small field hand's hut on the outer perimeter of the estate. The moon was high and the night cool and within moments he spotted a woman carrying a large basket walking toward his destination.

It was that disgusting woman. He could recognize her scent anywhere as it persisted on insulting his nose, even when she was far from his sense's reach.

"Wench," he ground out, filling the void between them with unprovoked malice. She dropped her basket at the sheer odium of his voice, a sharp sigh escaping her as she looked at him with wide eyes.

He was not blind; he could see that she was a beautiful woman, but life had taught him that those wrapped in the loveliest packages of mortality were the most venomous of vipers. Snake handling was delegated to beggars on street corners not powerful youkai lords in need of bedtime satisfaction. His father was indeed a fool.

"You look so much like him," she whispered, her voice like honeyed milk to a sore throat. But she did not deceive _him_. He knew what she was—a pathetic, worthless human woman hoping to better herself through power and prestige by way of fucking a taiyoukai. She was pathetic indeed.

"How may I help you, Sesshoumaru?" she asked gently, a smile plastered across her face. It was sickeningly sweet and abhorrent in its less than natural state, like sugared tea. He loathed her already.

"Do not address me so familiarly, _human_," he warned, not at all concerned with his tone of voice.

"My apologies, Sesshoumaru-_sama_," she said, her surprise not lost to him. Did she expect him to be like his father? Perhaps she was a fool as well. "What may I do for you?"

"One such as _you_ have nothing to offer me. I simply wished to see what my father deemed more important than his own son," he said dispassionately. " I must say that his choice disappoints me. I didn't realize my great father had stooped to desperation."

"How dare _you_!" she said indignantly, her feet moving toward him as though she wished to strike him. He almost wanted her to; then he couldn't be held responsible for his actions. She stopped suddenly, still a respectable distance from his person, as an odd smirk lifted the corners of her lips. "So what _really_ brings you here, Sesshoumaru-sama? Jealousy or hatred?"

"Perhaps both, or perhaps concern. Either way, it shouldn't matter to you as long as you stay away from my father," he sneered at her.

"And why would I do that?"

"You think you're special, don't you?" he said, a nasty smirk of his own darkening his countenance. "Do you think you were the first? A great and terrible youkai lord finally succumbs to a human female's touch, softening him from within," he mocked, noticing a frown deepening at her brow, making him glad he decided to pay her an undeserved visit. "He has a taste for you humans, but you are far from the first. He's taken countless human women to his bed and none have lasted long. Your time is running out, wench, so I suggest you save the remaining pieces of your dignity and never see him again."

She laughed—short and bitter—the knowledge of disrespect growing all too obvious in his mind. He wanted to kill her all the more. "Trying to scare me off? Afraid that I'll become your mother?" She looked shocked for a moment as he contemplated strangling her, but then she righted herself and spoke apologetically to him. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I realize that sharing your father's attention with another person is difficult, but you're practically full-grown. You have to separate yourself from him eventually."

It was his turn to laugh. Share his attention—_what_ attention? His father had finally been home for an indefinite yet assured lengthy stay and he quickly becomes infatuated with some woman and has no problem spending practically all his free time with her. Yes, he was envious, but his anger was greater and his disgust all-consuming. He hated the very blood that ran through her veins, granting her life and enabling his father's love. She _was_ special in a sense, though he'd never tell her that. His father treated her differently from the others and seemed to legitimately care for her and indulge her—like a man helplessly in love. So, he was compelled to seek her out and hopefully steer her away.

What he _really_ wanted was to slit her throat, but he thought his father might kill him for it. It was a sad fact in life when a son realizes that his father loves some woman he had just met more than his own son. Then again, he supposed it was natural since he and his father really didn't know one another. How can you love someone you don't know? Easy—you can't.

Too bad he forgot that it was his father who had told him that.

"You know nothing," he supplied maliciously. "If this continues as it is, you both will end up dead."

He walked away then, his claws digging into his fists with bloody intent.

The next day, as expected, his father was angry.

He had been summoned to his father's chambers and he complied with haste, knowing what was to come and eager to get it over with. Apparently, he arrived earlier than expected.

"I never wished my own son to harbor such prejudices. Had you something to do with this, Kazuma?"

He stopped dead in tracks, the open doorway a few meters ahead.

"I never spoke kindly of humans, nor did I purposely incite a hatred of them within him. But you must remember that you are an anomaly among your kind and you have been virtually absent during those vital years. It seems logical to me that he would dislike them."

"He _sought_ her out!"

"Well, your affairs are no secret. Had you been present more often, you would also know that the boy once fancied a human, but that did not turn out well."

"He did?"

"Yes."

"Why hasn't he spoken of this to me?"

"You would have to ask him yourself. As for the woman, I see no harm in him telling her what he did. He was brought up to speak his mind when he sees fit and I wouldn't have it any other way. He is usually tactful when he chooses to speak, but these circumstances are quite unique."

"He made her _cry_! I can't stand it when women cry!"

"Her feelings are too delicate then. If she cannot handle the fact that you two are engaged in a socially unacceptable relationship, then she need not be in it."

"Are you questioning my authority, Kazuma?"

"No, you are simply too preoccupied to think coherently. In fact, you are so preoccupied that you have yet to realize that your son is standing in the hallway listening to every word we speak."

"_SESSHOUMARU_! GET IN HERE!"

He scrambled in the room quickly, not bothered in the least that he was eavesdropping and caught red-handed. He honestly didn't care. His respect for his father was hanging by a thin thread as it was anyhow.

"Yes, father?"

"Kazuma, leave us."

His uncle bowed and left without a word, not even pausing to spare Sesshoumaru a glance. He was slightly vexed over that.

"Do you care to explain yourself?"

"No."

His father's anger rolled upon him like a crash of waves upon the sand. But he withstood it as though it was as natural as the heightened tide coming full force to overwhelm the shoreline.

"Why in _hell_ would you say those things to Izayoi?"

"I felt she needed to hear them," he replied with a fluidity as slick as oil.

"So you feel no guilt in telling her that she and I would both die were we to remain together? Do you wish to kill me and Izayoi?"

"I will not try to kill you. As for your human toy, her own kind will take care of that if your need to rut her persists." His father's fists were near shaking as he held a tight seal on his rage.

"You feel no guilt, do you?"

"No."

"I never thought it would be like this," his father whispered as his head drooped.

"Neither did I."

His father's head snapped up then and their eyes locked for a long moment. Gold on gold, a unique hue, indicative of a familial relationship, but that was as far as it went.

"Are we finished?"

"Yes."

He didn't feel guilty, not even for the thoughts of murder that lurked behind his eyes in the darkness behind the sun. He wouldn't sully his hands with her lowly blood, but she couldn't say she wasn't warned. What the humans had in store for such abdominal acts would be worse than the hell he had to offer.

If only he knew how true his prediction would be.

_xxx_

It was strange that he remembered Izayoi before he could even conjure up an image of his brother's face. It was even funnier that he recalled his brother's assigned color before a mental picture of the boy visually manifested within his mind.

He had listened intently as Kagome spoke about her journeys and her double life earlier that evening. She had shared her theories on the mysterious upbringing of Inuyasha in order to better explain, and accept in his opinion, his brother's oftentimes enigmatic behavior. Well, as far as that behavior concerned _her_ anyhow. It was no secret that the girl harbored a deep affection for his brother and felt she knew the boy inside and out, which he found questionable. If she knew Inuyasha better than she knew herself, then why was she postulating about his past and subsequent personality? The answer was obvious—Inuyasha choose not to share these telling details of his life with her. How could she love someone she only half-knew?

"It is impossible to love someone you do not know, Sesshoumaru. When you learn to listen, to truly listen, then you will be prepared to love someone other than yourself."

His father had once told him the meaning of love. Another argument erupted over Izayoi and his father declared his love for the human woman, saying he had never felt such a deep connection with another person. He asked his father how such a thing was possible and the answer provided was that his father _knew_ Izayoi and thus loved, even craved, everything about her, whether good or bad, annoying or pleasant. He accepted it all and found a comfortable place for himself amongst her thoughts and idiosyncrasies.

Sesshoumaru never felt more disgusted or betrayed. He walked away from his father, pondering this new development. This love was something not reserved for him or his late mother, but for some god-forsaken human wench that held the power to ruin his great father within the words held loosely upon her flippant tongue. All it would take was a few uttered syllables and the whole world would know of his father's weaknesses and unscrupulous behaviors. It made him sick.

He wanted to slaughter the entire household when the woman became with child. There would soon be no secret to keep and though he could not recall the cutting words said to him by his father, he remembered the feelings of deep betrayal and anger that settled within his steeled heart. His hate was nothing more than veiled rage—a deep anger rooted in love. Hitomi was a mortal woman incapable of loving a demon, but Izayoi was capable of such love and his father once again reaped the rewards and possessed a luxury that he did not. However, his hatred for Izayoi was only partly due to her humanity.

Inuyasha was to be the cherished product of a loving union. A child born from love—something _he_ was not. Even though he could not remember his brother's face, he knew that any love between he and his brother was not lost, for it had never been in the first place.

Inuyasha was yellow, for he felt the coward when he thought of his brother.

If only he could remember why…

His eyes drifted to the stars as he shifted the book in his lap so he could stretch his legs. It was the early hours before dawn when the clear skies took on the most brilliant shade of blue. The sky was dark and sprinkled with a few sparse stars, but light enough to flaunt its beautiful azure hue, giving it a mysterious and profound quality that always made him thoughtful and calm. He thought best at this time of the day. Something about the lovely sky and the rousing of life made his mind feel clear and level. He looked at the midnight blue expanse one last time as his eyes shifted to the sleeping girl. She looked relaxed as always when she slept, her hair splayed about her head, evidence of her spontaneous repositioning during the night. He imagined that if it was day and the sun shone bright, that her hair would most likely resemble that striking sky of twilight above. He rather liked the image.

He shook his head and resumed his reading, absorbing every word the _psychology_ book had imprinted on its pages. He hoped his understanding was thorough enough. He figured it would be enlightening to able to speak with Kagome about her studies.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he also hoped to impress her, but he chose to ignore its presence as he commenced reading about 'personality disorders,' briefly hoping he didn't have one.

That thought made him smile as he prepared himself to find one that fit Kagome.

**x x x**

She stared at her ramen with exaggerated contempt, vowing _not_ to enjoy it. Inuyasha liked to call her useless sometimes because she was less than adequate in the necessary art of self-defense. Fair enough, she wasn't stubborn enough to debate that issue seeing as how she had an affinity for being kidnapped. Her high school teachers many times over had spoken with concern over her distracted mind and cluttered work, covertly asking her if there were problems in her home life. Again, their words were founded and so she brushed it aside with a small smile, her thoughts veering off topic to a certain silver-haired hanyou. Her mother had expressed a slight grudge against Inuyasha and tried to persuade her to go out with that nice, persistent boy, Hojou. 'He's smart too, isn't he?' her mother would ask, fully aware of the answer, but point made nonetheless. She accepted her mother's worry and tried to ease her mother's mind, knowing that the elder Higurashi knew a thing or two more about the heart than she.

But a feudal taiyoukai trying to convince her that she was afflicted by a paranoid personality disorder was a completely different ball game. One in which she was savvy enough to hand him a beat-down.

"So you read one psychology book and suddenly you're Sigmund Freud!"

"I don't think I care for that analogy," he replied pensively. "His ideas were quite a stretch, making me think he had issues of his own."

Did he just slight the revered Freud? "Just because he had a few loose bolts doesn't diminish the important contributions he made to the field of psychology!"

"_Bolts_?"

"Never mind. How'd you read that thing so fast anyhow? It took you what, twelve hours?" How did he _do_ that? If she could read an entire textbook that fast she'd have no collegiate fears whatsoever!

"Centuries of reading makes one quite proficient at it. This, however, took me longer than usual because the material is far advanced from what I am accustomed to. The experiments you humans have conducted were quite intriguing."

"So practice made you a fast reader?" After the look he just threw her way, she wished she hadn't said anything at all.

"When you are older, in a few centuries perhaps, you will understand." He was mocking her that arrogant jerk!

"Hey now!"

"You are digressing. Perhaps you are uncomfortable talking about your affliction? Denial is indicative of poor behavioral adaptation."

"But is natural nonetheless," she spat smugly. "Kind of like displacement, huh?" He ignored her insult, making her all the more angry.

"Hmmm," he said with an exaggerated flair, making him sound like an inquisitive doctor. "It seems you _are_ reading much into my remarks and deducing belittlement, though I have maintained benignity."

"You are such a jerk!"

"It seems you have established and maintained a grudge against me as well."

"Do you try to bring out the worst in me?"

"Very suspicious of you, Kagome, don't you think?"

"I am _not paranoid_," she hissed. "How can _you_ call _my_ character into question?"

His eyes lowered back to the book in his lap and a smirk tilted the corner of his mouth. "_You are_ quick to perceive and aggressively counterattack suppositions of your character and reputation. I don't think that's healthy."

"Alright, Dr. Sesshoumaru," she said sarcastically, "what other symptoms do I have?"

"Well, I recall a reluctance to confide in me because you feared what I might do with the information. There was also a recounting of your history in which recurrent suspicions of my brother's loyalty was called into question. I believe fidelity was among them, making the personality profile complete. Congratulations Kagome, you are an example of the Paranoid Personality Disorder."

She wanted to swipe that book from his hands and bang him over the head with it a couple of times. Her face was hot from anger and her palms were sweating with the anticipation of causing him bodily harm. That was until she noticed the grin that enraptured his face as he skimmed over some random lines in the book. He was enjoying himself, not really meaning what he said, but hoping to rouse some reaction from her. He hadn't hurt her feelings, though it was slightly disconcerting to hear her former enemy use some tender and secretive information to make her compatible with a disorder. That was a perplexing thought. If Sango had done such a thing, she would have questioned the elder girl's love for her. Had Miroku uttered those words so carelessly, she would have thought him insensitive. But Sesshoumaru…was different. It was like he possessed a unique and far superior perception of her relationship with Inuyasha, granting him the right to poke fun at her problems. Why was everything he did anything but insulting? His very existence was a burden to Inuyasha, making insult rise to life by a mere whiff of a scent. But not to her…and that kind of scared her.

She would ignore that for now, seeing as how she had a game to win.

"Give me that book!" she demanded as she stood and walked toward him, her now cold lunch forgotten.

He looked up at her with keen disinterest as though he didn't realize she was talking to him. "I do not comply well with commands," he stated nonchalantly. "Perhaps you should ask nicely."

"Like hell!" She lunged for the book and he slid to the side a little too easily. She pushed a knee into the ground to stop her face from meeting it. If he wouldn't give it to her, then she'd take it. "Fine," she said in a defeated tone. She acted like she had forsaken the notion as and sat with her legs folded beneath her. She pretended the grass caught her interest and a few minutes later his eyes returned to the glossy pages and she knew he took the bait. She lunged again and his reflexes proved their superiority once more as he moved aside and held the book out of her reach.

"You should know by now that trying to take things from me is futile."

She knew he was right, but it was just so unfair that impulse took hold of her reins and compelled her to play dirty. She stuck her finger in her mouth and when confident that it was good and wet, she stuck it in his ear and coated the shell with her saliva. The look of pure shock on his face was priceless and almost proved to be her downfall, but she managed to regain her composure and confiscated her book.

"Ha!" She jumped off the ground and did a short, stupid little victory dance to further rub it in his face that she had indeed _taken_ something from him. He quickly regained his passive countenance of disinterest and straightened his back once more, giving him that air of privileged dignity. What a sour-puss…

"That has to be _the_ most childish thing I have ever experienced."

"Yeah, yeah," she said with a flippant wave of her hand, " I know you don't know what fun is." She thought she heard an indignant snort, but it wasn't pervasive enough for her to know for sure. "Ah-ha!" she exclaimed after a few moments of scanning the pages. "It seems we have a contender!"

"It is useless," he said dispassionately. "I thoroughly read that particular section and it cannot possibly describe me."

"And why not? Think you're too good to have personality flaws?"

He frowned at her. "It says that personality disorders typically manifest in adolescence and become pervasive in adulthood only to become less pronounced during an individual's middle aged years. I am well past those years, by a few centuries. Had I possessed such problems at one point is rather moot, seeing as how those same characteristics are no longer an issue for someone as old as I."

It was her turn to snort. "Just because they're less pronounced doesn't mean they're not still present. You're just trying to steer me away! Found one that applies, did you?" She didn't even try to stop the evil smirk from overwhelming her face. This was so much fun! "I think the Schizoid Personality Disorder is a good start. Let's see here," she said to herself as she finished reading the short list of symptoms. "Emotional coldness and detachment," she read aloud. "Sounds familiar. A limited capacity to express emotions. Well, I've seen you express some pretty convincing malice toward your brother, but that's in need of further exploration," she said confidently, inwardly squealing at the pointed glare he directed at her. "Very few close relationships. Do you desire intimate relationships, Sesshoumaru?"

"No."

"Well, it says you shouldn't. Consistent preference for solitary activities is also a symptom. Hmmm," she mocked, pausing to wet her lips, "I recall a quiet youkai that likes to spend his time thinking. Sounds solitary to me!" She looked at him with excitement looming over her, wondering what expression was on his face now!

His eyes were intense and his lips were no longer pressed together in irritation. He looked soft and approachable right now in the overcast sunlight; his eyes shadowed by overhanging bangs and his lips slightly parted. He looked transfixed on something of great intrigue, except that he was looking at her face. What was he thinking? She shook her head, hoping to clear the accumulating junk, and forced herself to look away from that currently _very_ appealing face. She resumed her diagnosis with fervor.

"Where'd I leave off? Oh! You seem pretty indifferent to everything, praise and criticism included. Do you take pleasure in any activity besides killing? Because it says few things bring you enjoyment and I'm inclined to believe it. Let's see here. Indifference to convention and preoccupation with introspection—getting warmer! And a lack of desire for sexual—"

"Are you finished?"

"Yes," she replied automatically, a blush burning her cheeks. She should have paid more attention to what she was reading, but she had been too caught up in the moment. Why was it that sex humiliated her so? Was it because she had nothing to say on the matter except that she had deviant hormones? She wasn't sure, but she knew she must look like a cherry right about now.

"Is that how you see me?" She saw him stand from the corner of her eye and move toward her. She watched as he knelt before her, not willing her eyes to look up at his face. "Look at me." She refused—no, she just couldn't, but she didn't know why that was the case. She felt his fingers push her bangs out of her face, her blush deepening in response to his touch. He had never touched her like this before. This was purposeful and delicate and it made her skin burn. "No, I do not desire intimacy with others and yes, I am detached. Do you know why?" She shook her head in negation; his hand still pressed against the side of her face. "Because it's easier that way. I will always remain. In my stead, everything loses its former beauty or intrigue, unable to withstand the throes of time. Indifference and isolation are the conventions of my life and it's natural at this point for nothing to affect me much. Introspection is not a preoccupation, but rather a way to pass the time. There is always time to overcome and forever I will remain. It is my life."

She looked up at his face just as he pulled away, his back rigid as he looked toward the heavens that were as ceaseless as he. She understood now. Many of the things that had happened to him in life had molded him and defined his relationships with others, but the nature of his life was the basis that made the man before her Sesshoumaru. Time—inescapable and grueling and never-ending—it was his burden and his blessing, forcing him to experience many things he did not wish to know and to endure many hardships he'd rather not begrudge. Time allows for hurt to dull and anger to fade, but it tests love and tries resilience. Can one continue to desire life and maintain the freedom to live it throughout the course of infinity? It must be so boring and so painful, the encounters of surprise and intrigue hardly enough to make it worthwhile. At least he was enabled a continuously broadening perspective and an enormous stockpile of knowledge, but was it enough?

Even the stars burn out after so long.

His question echoed within her mind and she briefly pondered it. How did she see him? What did he mean to her? He meant something, that was for sure, and curiously, that something was growing in importance. Maybe she was just too trusting, something she had been accused of more than once—and quite contradictory to a paranoid personality, she thought begrudgingly. Was she looking for solace through him because he was convenient and happened to be quite the listener? Or was it more than that? Did she view him as a friend? She already knew he had transcended the boundary between acquaintance and friend, but she was reluctant to examine how deep those bountiful waters of friendship flowed.

"I see you as extraordinary," she whispered, almost surprised she had said it aloud. He turned to her, mild shock again taking hold of his features. Was he astonished to hear what she thought of him? Did he expect it to be more negative or apathetic?

How much _did_ he trust her? She didn't really know how he thought of her, though he strongly hinted at the conclusion that he did in fact view her in a similar light as she viewed him. But how far did that light reach? He trusted her with many details of his life, but how much was he willing to divulge? Would he truly confide in her? Her eyes fell upon the last symptom of the Schizoid Personality Disorder and she knew a way to test this new curiosity, though she figured he might see through her ploy. Either way, it didn't matter, because she had just resolved herself to ask a particular question, of which she was, in fact, _very_ interested to hear his views. She could already feel the blush darkening at the mere thought of it.

"Do you have sexual desires, Sesshoumaru?" she asked nervously, a loud swallow following her words. "I-I…I'm just curious and…a-and," she mumbled, fully aware of how stupid she sounded. Why was this topic so difficult for her? She really needed to get over her fear of sex and come to terms with her own budding sexuality. If Sesshoumaru could make her feel better about Inuyasha, then she'd assumed he could make her feel better about her chaotic and powerful desires. At least she hoped he could…

She forced her eyes back to his and that same expression of utter shock remained plastered to his face. "Are you still trying to place me in that disorder? You should know better than I that an individual must meet those symptoms consistently and that they must be so pervasive as to interfere with one's life. I do not—"

"That's not what I'm doing. You know what, just never mind. Forget I asked." After having a minute to think it over, she decided it was really none of her business and she wished she had saved herself the embarrassment by never asking. She wanted to hear what he had to say and didn't at the same time, which when coupled together resulted in massive amounts of confusion. She had no idea what was going on inside her own head anymore.

"I may be youkai, but I am also a man," he said quietly, his eyes turned heavenward again. "Yes, I have sexual desires."

"Oh." She honestly didn't know where to go from there and so she said nothing more, thinking he'd drop it, but…he didn't.

"My experiences are nothing to be emulated," he said with a trace of sarcasm lining his voice. "My uncle decided that there was one sure way to rid my mind of Hitomi and her betrayal. He had mentioned it before with no results, save a scathing remark from Maurus, but shortly after Hitomi's wedding his plan was enacted. It was quite a surprise."

Kagome watched with keen interest as he gracefully sat down in front of her, preparing himself to tell this particular story. This gave her the opportunity to prepare as well since this was going to be the strangest and most explicit conversation she had ever had. She was almost excited to hear his experiences and repeatedly told herself to calm down. By the gods, just the word _sex_ had an impact on her!

She swallowed her apprehension and anticipation as he began to speak, never once realizing that this first time, and definitely overdo, conversation was happening with her first love's hated brother, her former enemy and newest friend. A man that made her understand the complexity of life and the many shades of a single event. A man that showed her that people had many, many facets just waiting for interpretation.

And Sesshoumaru had more facets than she first thought possible.

**x x x**


	17. Chapter 17

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 17:**

_xxx_

"Fold," Maurus said with a short sigh. Maurus was a very theatrical man and so short sighs were uncharacteristic of him, unless of course he was engaged in a heavy bout of drinking, which was _not_ uncommon. The desert youkai took a long swig of his sake as Sesshoumaru gathered up the cards, making sure to take a sip of his own drink for good measure. He supposed it was natural for a being empowered with wind and sand to be constantly thirsty, but Maurus seemed to think _everyone _was parched at any given moment. The thought made him smile as he dealt the cards. Maurus said the Egyptians had invented cards and his homeland was near that kingdom and so he learned the many games with child-like fervor. Apparently, Maurus was a gambling man, among the many other things he was, and so he taught Sesshoumaru some of the games to keep himself entertained. It wasn't like Kazuma would play with him.

Sesshoumaru won the next hand and just as the slurring Maurus began accusing him of cheating, Kazuma entered the room, sucking the atmosphere dry of its former amiability.

"What is going on here?"

"I'll tell ya waz goin' on here," Maurus said unevenly. "This here boy take my monies. He cheater I say." Kazuma looked unfazed, but Sesshoumaru noticed his eyes roaming about the room and finally settling on the cases of empty sake.

"You are drunk and gambling with a sober opponent? How foolish." He sighed softly as he mentally cursed his luck. Maurus was under the impression that he, too, was drunk, though he knew it was impossible before he even agreed to play. The cards wouldn't have been nearly as much fun had he not been deceiving Maurus the whole time.

"Sober?"

"Yes, sober," Kazuma mocked degradingly, though Maurus was too incapacitated to notice the slight, much less retaliate. "Sesshoumaru is a poison maker like his father. Alcohol is merely a weak poison. So weak, in fact, that his blood most likely purified it so quickly that he didn't even feel a change in perception whatsoever."

Well, that much was true… He'd probably never get to play cards with Maurus again.

"You mean his father can't get drunk either?"

"No."

"Then why pretend?" Maurus asked indignantly, suddenly seeming to sober up a good bit as he tried to digest this new, shocking information. Sesshoumaru knew why his father pretended to be drunk when he went out with Maurus. It was disgusting and lowly, making his father appear nothing more than a sleazy womanizer willing to rut anything capable of reproduction.

"It's a ploy to bed human women," Kazuma stated evenly. "It seems they find a drunken youkai more approachable. Sesshoumaru, come with me."

"Not before he gives me back my money," Maurus said, his voice muffled by the table his head was now laying upon.

"You were the one foolish enough to lose it. It now belongs to him." Maurus grumbled a few incoherent curses as Sesshoumaru gathered his winnings and followed his uncle through the corridors.

"I'm proud of you," Kazuma said flatly, though Sesshoumaru could feel his smile. "Your cunning pleases me and as you are well aware, it always makes my day when Maurus suffers." He entertained a small smile of his own at the thought of Maurus being bested at his own game.

"Where are we going? Do I need to bring anything?"

"You need nothing but your body for what I have in store for you." The sound of Kazuma's voice made him a bit uneasy.

After several more minutes of traversing through the dark hallways, they suddenly came to a halt in a very familiar corridor. This was his hall containing his chambers and other quarters for whatever use he deemed necessary. Why was Kazuma leading him to his own rooms? A few feminine scents came to his attention and suddenly he wasn't so lost anymore. Should he object? He recalled Maurus' words centered on taint, but the more Sesshoumaru thought about it, the angrier he became. He cared for Hitomi, but had he lain with her, it would have become tainted nonetheless, for her heart was not reserved for youkai. He honestly had no idea what his father or his uncle had experienced as their first introduction into the world of carnal pleasures, nor had it even crossed his mind to ask. He was always so busy and shortly after he became aware of his own sexuality, Hitomi had been added to the scheme of things. Should he embrace this?

Why shouldn't he? He was already jaded and figured love would never equate to anything of significance in his life. His father had formed an eternal union with his mother not out of love, but out of political necessity. In addition, he could finally get this part of his life out of the way and figure out what all the fuss was about.

They walked silently into one of the rooms in his hall and there, waiting in a rigid line, were three youkai females, all dressed very provocatively. Each wore a little smile—one shy, one pretty and one downright seductive. They were all very attractive he supposed, but their beauty didn't exactly impress him. He would not let an obsession with superficial things cloud his judgement—not like some people did…

"Pick whichever you like. They are yours," Kazuma said with an arm extended. "Think of them as the beginning of your own harem. You can have all three at once if you like."

He cleared his throat as he carefully examined each female. This was his first time and so he knew he'd only chose one. He didn't know what to think exactly, but these women were definitely older than him, making him think his uncle had purposefully chosen experienced females. That way, he could become well versed in the art of pleasure. He wasn't opposed, but he wasn't convinced that he needed to know how to please a woman anyhow. The inclination just wasn't all that strong.

The first he approached was the bashful one, but something about her seemed fake. She was pretty with turquoise hair and blue eyes. He liked her shape the best. Her curves looked the softest. The second was perhaps the loveliest of them all with ebony hair and deep purple eyes that almost looked black. The third was the epitome of a youkai beauty. She was tall with gold-colored hair and crimson eyes, her body strong and defined. Upon closer inspection, he realized there was something off about all of them and the answer hit him almost immediately. They were objects of pleasure and they found their niche and went with it, something that differentiated them from all the other whores out there. The first one played on her innocence, the second counted on her unique beauty and the third relied upon her power of seduction.

He chose the second one. Her face was the most beautiful of the three and he wanted to run his fingers through her pretty dark hair. Kazuma nodded in approval and directed them to a room further down the hall. Apparently, it was unscrupulous to take them in the room he normally slept in.

Once the screen was shut, he had no idea what was expected of him. In fact, he felt rather awkward and out of his element. He could draw blood with the best of them, but he felt incompetent when it came to women. Hitomi was a disaster and knowing his own manhood the way he did, he knew it just didn't stand on alert at a moment's notice. He found this youkai very attractive, but that didn't mean he was ready to fuck her here and now. This was going to be more difficult than he first thought.

"Do you know what kind of youkai I am?" she asked as she slipped off her sandals.

"A bird of some sort, I think," he said anxiously, inwardly cringing at the nervous energy bubbling in his voice.

"Yes," she said with a smile, "A raven. You like things that are dark, don't you?"

"Yes," he said truthfully, his breath hitching as she began untying her robes.

He had read about all sorts of youkai and he recalled that bird youkai were visually stimulated, more so than most other youkai. He supposed that applied to sex as well and not just the battlefield. He didn't know what the hell that meant to her though!

Her layered robes landed softly at her feet and he took his first look at a nude woman and he couldn't say he was disappointed. He liked the way the light moved over her body, seeming to caress her as she moved. He traced the shadows dancing on her belly as she sauntered up to him, modesty far removed from her vocabulary.

"When I was hired," she said softly as her fingers traced the markings on his cheek, "I thought I'd be pleasuring your uncle. Not that I would have minded, but this…this is much better." He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as she brushed her fingertips across the moon on his forehead. "I know this is your first time. I am honored," she whispered into his ear. He hadn't even realized that he lowered himself to facilitate contact. "I promise to be gentle." She licked his ear and ran her hands up his stomach, sliding one into his kosode.

This was it—no more ignorance after this and so he embraced the moment and threw himself into it. His body was no stranger to lust and so his instincts directed him to his former pattern. After she removed the top layer of his clothing, he gripped her forearms and spun her around into the wall. She was surprised and the shock grew exponentially when he ravaged her mouth, his hands roaming over her hips. The curve of her hip wasn't as exaggerated as Hitomi's and that left him feeling disappointed. He reprimanded himself, vowing not to be distracted by memories of some stupid human girl. He gripped her waist, his claws biting into her flesh. She apparently liked the aggression and met him full-force, her tongue vigorously exploring him. Her arousal was growing by the second and when she finally disrobed him, the scent nearly made him lose his mind. Visuals did the trick for him this time, but he knew that it would be different with other types of youkai.

The sex was rough; blood and sweat intermingled with the scent of semen, making him want to vomit when it was over. He rather enjoyed himself, though, and he learned something very important—he didn't like it when she faced him. It was almost degrading to have this stranger look into his eyes as thrust in and out of her. He didn't even know her name.

At that realization, he demanded that she leave. He would never call for her again, despite her pretty dark hair. The next two were quite different. He took the golden haired one the next evening. Not that he preferred her to the other, but Kazuma kept droning on and on about the damn minx. He wanted to know what the fuss was all about and learned that it was definitely overplayed. She was much like the first one except she didn't meet his aggression with equal violence, but rather wished for him to dominate her once penetration began. He took her from behind, having no desire to look into her blood-colored eyes and she seemed to like it like that. He got off and that was all that mattered.

The final one, with the shy smile, was quite a surprise. She was bashful, making him all the more eager to force her into submission. Her hair was short, which he didn't like, but darker than the last one, which he _did_ like. Her curves were more pronounced and a bit softer than the previous ones and he found himself being more careful with her, although he still refused to face her once inside. After some time passed, he had a full harem and rarely rutted the same woman twice and he never had more than one in his chamber at a time. It sparked him as repulsive and he figured if he had two at once then his odds of having to look one in the eyes while fucking would be much too great. He never faced them after the first one and after the third one, he stopped kissing them. Despite his lack of enthusiasm for the actual women themselves, they thought him a good fuck. He almost laughed when he first caught wind of the rumor. They found him pleasing when he had no intention of pleasing any of them!

By the time his harem was complete, every last one had dark hair except two. He had decided to keep the turquoise-haired one because her soft curves were a rarity among youkai. He also decided to keep a white-haired one because she had an exceptional mouth.

Then his father made a comment about his choices.

"Ever wonder why you always seem to choose the dark-headed ones?" his father had asked, a coy smile splitting his mouth. He said nothing, but made it an urgent point to add a little colorful diversity to his harem.

Sex became his hobby and he loved it. It would seem that when he found something he liked, he overindulged himself. His anger died as he pounded into them and he held such power over them that he felt an enduring high of elation. But things began to change. His father died, Maurus was gone and his brother was born, but that didn't deter his now famed lust.

However, the elemental youkai with the turquoise hair ended up falling in love with him, or so she had said. He wondered if he should have remained so careful with her for so long. Had he not, she may not have gotten those ideas of tenderness in her head. Well, he probably did bring it upon himself since he called upon her the most. The others were more beautiful, but she was so soft. Her name was Yuki and he fucked her one last time before he sent her away. She was the only one whose name he would ever recall.

She cried and made a scene, both of which didn't go unnoticed by the entirety of the citadel. The soldiers thought it was hilarious and patted him on the back for knowing how to deal with unruly women. The female servants cried for Yuki's unrequited love, but none said anything directly to him. The rest of his whores were delighted with her departure, each hoping to be his next favorite. Kazuma had different things to say on that matter.

"She declares her love for you, then you fuck her and send her off?" Kazuma asked as though he didn't quite understand the situation.

"More or less, yes."

"If she loves you, then you know she is loyal and will do anything to please you. Why send her away?"

"A whore should know her boundaries. There is no love in fucking."

"I guess Maurus actually had a point once."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Perhaps I did in fact taint you. My intention was not for you to belittle the act of sex, but for you to get over that damn girl. Sex is a good and natural thing, but it should be done with some sense of honor and restraint."

His anger was growing with every word. Kazuma started all this and _now_ he's changing his mind? This had been going on for a very long time and now Kazuma says he lacks restraint and dishonors _his whores_. But what are whores for if not disrespect? They disrespected themselves far more than he did. They didn't demand kisses or endearments, nor tender caresses. Hell, they didn't even care that he never faced them when in the act as long as he was rutting them instead of the next whore.

"This is ridiculous," he scoffed. "Why wait so long to call out my immorality? Is it because of that deluded girl?"

"That 'deluded girl' had been a mainstay in your harem for a long time, Sesshoumaru. She should have held some importance to you. But you threw her away like a broken blade. That concerns me. I understand life has not been perfect for you and that sex has been a sort of…release for you, but this has got to change and quick."

He refused to see the logic in Kazuma's argument. He wasn't a child anymore; he didn't have to listen. "It is not your place to tell me what to do. I do as I please."

"Of that I am aware."

He walked away then, continuing the charade for a few decades thereafter, but it all came crashing down when Kazuma finally shared a deep-seeded secret with him—one so dark and repulsive that he dismissed his entire harem and aligned himself with a lifestyle of celibacy.

Lust was a thing of disgust and he would never succumb to its sickly call again.

_xxx_

He felt slightly awkward after telling the entirety of his sex life to Kagome. He felt even stranger when he realized that it had indeed been a _long_ time since he last revisited his old pastime. He looked at Kagome and anxiously awaited a comment—any comment—to ease the building tension. He had been able to speak with her about almost anything with little inhibition, but this topic had become more difficult than he had first anticipated. Why did sex always become a burden?

A tiny smile slowly elevated the sides of her mouth until it became a full-fledged grin. That wasn't what he expected.

"You're a _whore-monger_," she accused teasingly. Now that was most definitely _not_ what he expected.

"Well, I think you'll understand in a few hundred years when you're older." It was his turn to smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her smile faltering.

"You'd be a _whore-monger_ at some point in your life as well, _if_ you lived as long as I already have."

"How do you know I'm not one now?" she asked, sticking her little up-turned nose higher into the air.

"You're not."

"How do _you_ know?"

"You're too modest. My guess is that you've hardly even been kissed, _if_ you have at all."

The strangest thing happened when he said that. Her face had retained the cutest little tint of pink throughout his entire story and suddenly it went stark white only to flush even redder than before, when she first asked him about his 'sexual desires.' If she was Maurus right now, he would have won some money.

"Never been kissed, Kagome?" he teased. He knew he was acting a little childish, but he felt the need to cut through the thick atmosphere. Besides, she started it by calling him a whore-monger.

"Once."

He hadn't expected her to answer and now he didn't know what to say. He knew she was unwed because she traveled so much, but she was well past her prime, for a human. But things were different in her time and she acted as though she wasn't supposed to be married yet, but still…

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen," she replied in the most depressingly deadpanned voice.

"When do humans normally wed in your time?"

"Well, the nature of marriage has changed a lot. With more freedoms and a much higher standard of living, people wait now. You can choose who you want to marry and sometimes that takes a long time."

"You are digressing. I asked a simple question."

"About twenty-five, I guess. Why?"

"So, you are not passed your prime then?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked accusingly. She was a torrent of emotions again and he was actually relieved that the chaos that was Kagome distracted him from his former musings on his lack of sex.

"I don't understand your disappointment, that's all." He knew humans were rigid creatures who demanded monogamy and repressed their sexuality. Sex within a marriage was deemed moral and anything else was a dishonor to the individual's entire family, which was doubly true for women. He supposed their self-imposed frustrations were logical in order to prevent social problems.

"It's different in my time. There's a little stigma to it, like you don't want your mom to know you did _it_ before the Big Day, but if she does find out, it's not the end of the world."

"Explain."

"Basically, people have sex all the time now before marriage in my era. I-I'm…I…uh…"

"You are the exception."

"Yeah," she said, diverting her eyes. He was growing tired of that particular reaction.

"Does that bother you?"

"Well…I don't care what people think of me, if that's what you mean. But-but I…I have issues with _it_." Her reluctance to say the word_ sex_ made him want to chuckle.

"You mean you have desires that are difficult to handle."

"Yes."

"Like what?" By the gods, he prayed she'd answer! For some reason, he _really_ wanted to hear what she'd say.

She looked affronted for a moment and then she cleared her throat and righted her back. She looked him square in the eyes and he silently thanked the gods for this small gift.

"I have dreams about it. I see it everywhere in the modern era. My friends talk about it and I see a movie and I get wet!" She slapped her hand over her mouth, the red hue overwhelming her face in record time. Even_ he_ had trouble believing she had said _those_ words.

So, Kagome was afflicted by naughty dreams? He wondered what she dreamt about. He squashed the deviant thought immediately. Not only was it disconcerting in itself, but he also figured that her dreams would feature his brother as the headliner. He saw a dog ear twitch in his mind's eye and a red haori fluttering in the breeze…

He remembered what Inuyasha looked like…and all it took was Kagome talking about erotic dreams.

"I'm such a pathetic lecher. I feel so dirty and vile. I'm worse than Miroku! Are you even listening? Oh gods, this is _so embarrassing_!" she whined pitifully, making him willing to delay further exploration into his revived memory of Inuyasha—at least what he _did_ recall.

"It means that your body is ready—it _has_ been ready. Sex is not a bad thing, Kagome. The only question that remains is whether your mind is ready."

He now knew that it was vital to be in the correct state of mind when deciding to have sex. He had not been mentally ready for it, betrayal still deep and anger still dominant. He abused the act of sex in order to forget himself and it worked, but along the way he lost of piece of himself. He never even asked them their names. What kind of man acts so carelessly with others? He turned his attention back to Kagome, wondering if she had any thoughts on his statement. He needed her to speak—to drown out the words in his head that reminded him of his cruelty—of how he smashed a woman's heart just because one had already destroyed his. He was so petty back then.

Kagome looked thoughtful for a moment and then her blush deepened and she buried her face in her hands. He wondered what she could possibly be thinking.

"I can't believe we just had that conversation." She sure sounded like she was in disbelief.

"Why?"

"It's just something you don't talk about. Not like this."

"Why not?"

"I don't know—you just _don't_!"

"There's no need to be embarrassed. Look at how many women I've bedded and I wouldn't even face them," he said casually, hoping to give her some perspective. If she was dirty and vile for thinking about sex, then what did that make him? He refused to even think on it.

"Why wouldn't you face them?"

He hadn't expected her to ask that. It was something even he refused to explore for a very long time. His father was a good example of promiscuity and he showed no discretion. Youkai, hanyou or human—they were all fair game, though his preference rested with soft mortal flesh. His uncle was the opposite extreme, though he knew Kazuma wasn't celibate by any measure. Kazuma only dealt with youkai females and his affairs were secretive. Sesshoumaru never even knew his uncle had a sex life until well after his harem was established. He had no example on which to predicate sexual behavior and so he made due with what he knew. He knew women were shallow, their interest skin deep. They craved attention for the sole purpose of pitting it against each other. They wished to please him so that he would chose them over the others, making their lot in life seem more desirable. They had no desire to please him for _his_ fulfillment, just their own.

As the superficial, unworthy creatures they were, he gave them what they deserved. He used them as a means to obtain instant gratification. He didn't want to notice how pretty their eyes were or how entrancing their faces became while lost in the throws of passion. Above all else, such lowly creatures had no right to look him in the eyes while pleasure overtook him. They didn't know him, nor would they ever—they would never love him and so they would never see him as such.

"They say a herder never looks his sheep in the eye. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because he can't stand the thought of knowing the beasts only to kill them."

"Sesshoumaru?" Kagome asked after a seemingly long spell of silence.

He sighed, long and hard. He knew by now that when the girl said his name like that and paused, it meant that she was seeking permission to ask a possibly uncomfortable question.

"Yes?" he said wearily.

"Have you ever felt _anything_ when having sex? I-I mean…_oh_…never mind."

"I'm not the one to ask of such things. The fulfillment I derived was short lived. I had to repeat it over and over again to refill my elation. It started to lose its excitement even before Kazuma ended my games." He still to this day had no idea what people meant when they said they made love. It wasn't like that for him.

"What did he say to you that changed everything?"

The sky was darkening as he watched her twirl a strand of hair around her index finger. It was a nervous habit of hers and it seemed so endearing right now. He didn't regret his candor, but he hoped he made a strong impression. He didn't want her to give herself to someone unworthy like he had. He wanted her to respect herself and treat her body as a prize to be obtained. He wanted it to be better for her.

He was becoming aware that he was starting to care for the girl. He wanted things to be good for her. Should he tell her what his uncle said? Should he further recount his taint? He didn't want to stop being honest with her, not now, not ever.

"He told me something," he began, pausing to watch her smooth a lock of hair behind her ear, "about my mother."

**x x x **


	18. Chapter 18

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 18:**

_xxx_

He had just returned from mediating a dispute between two youkai clans, but it would be the last in which he'd participate. The desire to travel was rapidly climbing up his list of priorities and he had reluctantly come to a conclusion of sorts. His father had settled in the western provinces of the countryside, claimed it as his own and rigorously fought to expand his lands and protect neighboring ones from strife, all in the name of peace. Sesshoumaru, however, didn't care for such things; he didn't need land or allies. His serenity was found in the open air, the sounds of gurgling creeks and the whisper of grass beneath his feet. He was suffocating in this environment and in order to find his breath once more, he needed to make a change. He would keep the land in the immediate vicinity of the citadel, but that was all. The rest was now up for grabs to any human warlord or worthy taiyoukai determined enough to keep it. He no longer cared; that was his father's legacy, not his.

Upon entering his private armory, he came upon a most unusual sight. Sprawled out across the floor, arms above his head and neck bent at a curious angle, was Kazuma. The elder youkai was flat on his back and staring at the ceiling with a strange expression engraved upon his face. He stood over his uncle's body and glared at him, but Kazuma didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence. That irked him beyond reason, seeing as how he had been gone for a few months.

"What are you doing?" he asked authoritatively, like a father scolding his child.

Kazuma released a lengthy sigh, keeping his eyes fixated on the ceiling above him. "I'm just trying a new perspective, that's all."

That was uncharacteristic of the Kazuma he had known for so long. "I thought you were quite content with your previous one. Has something happened?"

"I remain content with my previous one," Kazuma said in his usual deadpanned voice. "I just feel the need to understand an alternate one." Sesshoumaru threw him an odd look before shrugging out of his armor. He replaced it next to his sword and left Kazuma to his own devices, choosing instead to retire to his chambers for the night.

The next morning, Kazuma didn't show himself at the breakfast table. There was only one time he could recall Kazuma not coming to breakfast and that was when his uncle had received word of his father's death, which had shocked Sesshoumaru since he wasn't even aware that he'd had a living grandparent. Kazuma didn't talk much about his family, making Sesshoumaru assume that Kazuma was the only remaining member. When asked why he kept such information to himself, Kazuma had said that the man's memory wasn't even worth the air expended in order to speak, and he left it at that.

He ate his breakfast silently, lingering longer than usual as he milked his tea, hoping he might catch Kazuma on his way out. After sitting idly for far too long, he left the dining room and decided to take a walk. As he passed the kitchen, he overheard some of the female servants talking.

"He was _on_ the breakfast table?"

"Yes, I couldn't believe it! I've served this household for a long time now and I've never seen the elder master act in such a way! I rose early today to make sure all was perfect since the young master returned late last night. When I went to check the dining room, there he was, flat on his back, _on top_ of the dining table! Can you believe it?"

"Oh, my! I wonder what got under his skin?" The women laughed and Sesshoumaru walked away, now very intent on finding his uncle and figuring out the cause of his eccentric behavior. If Kazuma continued acting as such, then surely everyone would think him mad.

After exhausting the citadel, he headed outdoors, confident now that he finally recognized fresher traces of Kazuma's scent. He exited the building and descended the stairs, knowing Kazuma was near. He was right, but he hadn't expected to see Kazuma lying haphazardly over the jagged steps, the crown of his head angled toward the ground.

"What _is_ the matter with you? Still seeking that alternate perspective?"

Kazuma released another odd sigh, his eyes still looking heavenward. "Did I ever tell you I was in love once?" This was interesting news. He had long been under the impression that Kazuma was incapable of feeling such an emotion saturated with affection and dependency.

"I was. She was so beautiful. She looked delicate, but she was strong and her brightness thwarted the darkest of shadows. But it was not meant to be." He thought Kazuma had never sounded so solemn before.

"And why not?"

"I was much older than her. I saw her as an infant and even as a small child, though I didn't pay her any mind. While she was still young, I left to train in the mountains. When my training was complete, I traversed these lands in search of worthy opponents in order to increase my own strength. When I finally returned home, she had grown. Did I ever tell you I had a brother?"

"No."

"I did, once. He was younger by many years and when I returned, he was long gone, pursuing his own training. My father refused to train us until after we received proper instruction. He thought he might kill us if he did. Such a careless man," Kazuma said as he extended an arm upward as though he could touch the clouds from his low perch. "When she first saw me upon my arrival, she had no idea who I was. My brother had been her companion in youth, and since he was gone, she came to me.

"She was lonely and thought I was too. Solitude never bothered me, I had told her, but she ignored my words and proceeded to pester me. Her beauty always caught my attention and I grew to appreciate other things about her as well—her voice, her mind, her mannerisms and her grace. I especially loved her grace. We spent endless hours together. Sometimes, at night, she would read to me as I leaned against the screen outside her room. We would take walks on sunny afternoons and stargaze together on clear nights. I loved her. I loved her with every fiber of my being.

"I never took her; it wasn't right. I craved her, but the guilt consumed me and I cursed my treacherous thoughts. Though I never dishonored her, I didn't always act appropriately toward her. Sometimes, I put her to bed and I would sit by her side while she sought rest. I would stroke her face, running my fingers along her jaw and such. It always made her smile, even when she was asleep. She would embrace me often and I would hold her far too long. I treated her too intimately, but I just couldn't help it. She made my control slip, which had never happened before and has yet to happen since. I was hungry for her, yet I kept her honor in tact.

"My father sent me off to battle and I was gone for quite some time. I was desperate to return to her and when I did return, so had my brother. I should have been more careful, knowing of their childhood bond, but I always lost my senses around her. One night, I went to her room so we could be alone. My desperation weakened me and I kissed her. Then, my brother walked in."

Sesshoumaru was shocked to say the least. First of all, he had never known that Kazuma had a previous lover and secondly, Kazuma had never talked about his past at any length. It was strange, but welcomed. It was nice to know his uncle had urges like everyone else and was comfortable enough to tell him these things. But why was Kazuma acting so strange? Was his recent behavior related to this?

After several moments of silence, Sesshoumaru decided to prod him further. "What happened?" he asked, thinking his other uncle, of whom he had no previous knowledge, must have loved the woman as well. Sibling rivalry was most likely the downfall of their relationship.

"My brother tried to strike me, but she got in the way. I shielded her, but before I regained my bearings, he had purposely hit her. She was on the ground, crying. I took my brother's sight that night and would have taken his life had she not stopped me." Again, Kazuma surprised him with this little twist. Weren't they vying for the same woman?

"Her mercy would prove to be our downfall. He told my father immediately, but he would have found out anyway when my brother's blindness was confirmed. She was forcibly kept away from me and married off to the first respectable suitor my father could find."

"What? Why would your father have any right to marry the girl off?" he asked, his confusion weighing down his voice. He could understand his grandfather forbidding his son from seeing an unworthy girl, but choosing her husband? That made absolutely no sense, unless… "Who was this woman?" he asked, his skin lighting ablaze with budding fury.

Kazuma finally stood then and turned around to face him. "Isn't it obvious? She was your mother."

Sesshoumaru stalked down the stairs and punched Kazuma in the jaw. It was the first and only time he would ever strike his uncle. Kazuma took it graciously and even had the decency to allow his balance to falter. When he picked himself up, he spoke so passionately that Sesshoumaru honestly didn't know how to react.

"Do you think I'm not ashamed? Do you think I was glad to fall in love with my own sister? It was a constant struggle, dealing with my feelings. I was always at odds with myself, trying to forget her pretty smile and the emotions she stirred within me. My mother hated me afterwards and I had always adored her. She died from the grief I inflicted upon her. My father rebuked me and my brother left, never to be seen again. My father never intended to give up his territory, but he did, just to make sure that I didn't sully his good name. Can you even imagine how difficult that was to endure? Your mother loved me, but she stopped me time and time again from touching her. She knew it was wrong and she maintained her integrity for the most part."

Kazuma paused and inhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he composed himself. "Do you know how hard it was for me to see her with your father, a man she didn't love? I came here after she died and I could hardly even bring myself to look at you. But here I am now, after all these years and still at your side. If I told you that I loved you, Sesshoumaru, would you send me away as well?"

He just stood there, like an icicle, ready to crash onto the earth below only to shatter. He didn't know what to say.

"Don't kill him, Sesshoumaru. You will only live to regret it."

He was talking about Inuyasha. "Why? Why say these things to me now?"

"Because I will soon be a father and my mistakes are clearer than ever."

"What did you say?"

His uncle did the most unexpected thing then. Kazuma strode determinedly up to him and embraced him fiercely. He was rigid; his uncle's arms pinning his own to his sides.

"You bear the mark of my family upon your brow. You may hide it if you like, but it will always be there." With that said, Kazuma released him and walked back inside the citadel, leaving an angry and perplexed Sesshoumaru in his wake.

_xxx_

He avoided his uncle for several months thereafter, but he could not maintain his ire. It sickened him to know of his mother's incestuous relationship with her elder brother. It was so repulsive that his own sexual desires waned and the mere thought of lust made him ill. That was when he dismissed his harem and repressed his own sexuality. He would later learn that things were not so black and white. His grandfather was a cruel man who was overprotective of his children and so he kept them largely isolated. Kazuma was also absent during his sister's childhood, meaning a brotherly bond was never formed. Though these things added some justification for his uncle's wayward feelings, they did not make the attraction any more acceptable or right.

At least Kazuma had the decency to acknowledge that fact.

After his cousin's birth, an important realization overtook him. Kazuma was a family-oriented man, one whom obviously wanted a child of his own for quite some time. The woman who birthed Kazuma's son wanted nothing to do with the bastard child and so Kazuma took the infant without complaint. He didn't particularly like that woman anyhow, he had said; she was just pretty and he liked the way she walked.

Kazuma took a lot of walks. It would seem his family was comprised of wanders; Kazuma was just more content to wander close to home.

"Well," Kagome began, effectively breaking the overbearing silence, "that's surprising, and kind of sick, but it must've been nice to know he was able to love so strongly. And…and at least he knew it was wrong and was trying to make up for his sins."

He found it perplexing that Kagome so easily grasped the truth from second-hand recollections. Yes, he now realized that it proved the hidden depth of Kazuma's feelings, but back then, rage and disappointment was all he took from it. Kazuma had, however, made a specific impact in that moment that Sesshoumaru was never able to disregard, no matter how hard he tried.

"_Don't kill him, Sesshoumaru. You will only live to regret it."_

That string of words, meaningless without regard to context, haunted him every time he thought of his estranged brother. Despite that pitiful feeling, he still visited the boy many times with lessons and warnings, all in the name of cultivation. He planned on rectifying his father's last mistake, but not until the boy was fully capable of defending himself. Otherwise, there would be no honor in his efforts. He clearly recalled the first time he approached Inuyasha after Izayoi's death. The boy finally realized his lot in life.

"_You hate me because I was born different than you, right?"_

He would never visit Inuyasha again. He had told himself that the next time he saw his brother would be the last time he, or anyone else, would ever see him. Apparently, he had made a liar of himself, but looking at Kagome right now made it seem okay that things turned out the way they did—because she obviously loved his brother.

She loved his brother… 

He stood and walked away, decidedly ignoring her questions as her voice followed him to the stream, only to fade and die there.

**x x x**

It was nightfall when he finally returned.

She thought about him the whole day. She thought about his absentee father and how desperately he vied for the man's attention. She thought about his hard-lined uncle and how diligently he worked to make the man proud. She thought about the girl that broke his heart and how hard he tried to overcome his hurt. To her, it seemed that Sesshoumaru just wanted to be loved and accepted, just like Inuyasha, and everyone else for that matter.

It was time to ask him about Inuyasha, but she wouldn't push the issue too far.

He sat down across from her silently, the dim glow of untended embers painting his hair and face orange. Like the robes of modern-day monks, to her, orange was the color of truth.

"What color is Inuyasha?" He looked at her for a long moment and when he spoke, he sounded more reluctant than ever, she thought.

"He is yellow. I couldn't kill him and even if I had, I'd still be a coward. He was always a loss to me."

"Was it Kazuma that stopped you from killing him?"

"Partly, but only as far as my haste went. Kazuma taught me patience and honor, making them out to be necessary virtues. His words, however, planted a sense of regret within me. I would live to regret it, he had said."

"Kazuma was pretty wise, huh?"

"Yes, but I wanted to despise him for those words that day. Not only because he spoke of treachery in regards to my mother, but also because his words mimicked my father's."

"What do you mean?"

"When word arrived that my father's mistress became with child, I was enraged. I approached my father, hoping to convince him to rid her and her unborn child from this world. Society learning of his affairs was damaging in itself, but a bastard hanyou child meant suicide for my father, which was exactly what came to pass."

_"Because I will soon be a father and my mistakes are clearer than ever."_

"He wanted to do right by Inuyasha and I hated him for it."

Her heart felt heavy, but she knew she couldn't console him. He'd had a long time to come to terms with these events and she couldn't possibly understand no matter how much she wished she could. It was admirable of his father to want to be there for Inuyasha and to openly embrace a socially unacceptable child, but like his uncle's incestuous love, those facts didn't make it okay to slight his older son.

"Do you think your father wasn't ready to be a parent when you were born?"

"That's what my uncle had said, but it never made me feel better. I masked my hurt with hate. That was how I coped."

His words made her think about the Shikon no Tama and all the enemies she had faced with Inuyasha. So much hurt usurped by hate, and even Inuyasha was no exception. Enemies upon enemies desired to take possession of the jewel so that they could fulfill their dreams and forget their pain. She wondered if Naraku was the same, too.

"I'm sorry, Sesshoumaru."

"Don't pity me. It was my own foolishness that perpetuated the pain and hatred. Despite knowing that, I still despise my brother, though I realize it is of no fault of his own. I will probably continuing loathing him until his existence has expired."

"But didn't you once tell me that time alleviates such things?"

He looked surprised when she said that, a small, almost invisible smile taking root. "I suppose it's possible."

That was enough for her. He hated Inuyasha unjustly, but at least he had the decency to know that. She supposed then that Sesshoumaru was never really completely bad, or else, unjust or not, Inuyasha would be long dead and she'd never have met either one of them.

"You know, we wouldn't be sitting here like this if you had killed him."

"I know. Perhaps Fate does act according to a higher plan."

"I sure I hope so, or else I have no idea why I'm even here!" she exclaimed, faintly realizing she dismissed an ulterior point of his words. Sometimes, the things he said scared her.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"I'm here, in this time, because a demon dragged me here. The Shikon no Tama was in my body. I brought it back here and broke it. It has caused so many problems. People have died because of my mistake and people continue to suffer because of it. It's all my fault and that's why I'm piecing it back together. But, I have to wonder why—why am I here?"

"Perhaps it is best that the jewel is eradicated here, in this time. More ghastly things may have happened if it was left in your time."

"I've already told you that there are few youkai in my time. Magic is a thing of the past."

"Maybe that's true, maybe not. It's also possible that the widespread existence of magic in this era will make its destruction plausible."

"That still doesn't make me feel any better."

"That's your burden to bear, Kagome. The truth is, you will never know."

She swallowed hard, never once breaking her sight from him. The embers were cooling now, darkening his face with quickly abandoning light. She hated thinking about that particular memory; the one in which she saw an inexperienced archer holding fast onto a bow, blindly aiming and shooting, only to destroy a youkai and break an object into countless pieces. She couldn't have known the gravity of her miscalculation, but that didn't erase the fact that she did it nonetheless. It was in the past now, but its severity still remained. She constantly remembered because a few of the products of her misdeed traveled with her, damaged, but not broken, by the events she had set into motion.

She realized then that Sesshoumaru, like everyone else, was a product of his experiences and a slave to his memories.

**x x x**

Twilight came and an urge overtook him. He removed his shirt and pulled one of his swords from its sheath, briefly inspecting the ominous blade only to replace it in its scabbard. This was another one of his pastimes, and knowing what he did about himself, he knew that when he enjoyed something, he overindulged himself with it. In remembrance of his past lessons, he took on a familiar Iaijutsu formation. He closed his eyes, concentrated on his breathing and visualized an imaginary opponent.

_Draw, cut, replace._

It was a relaxing ritual, one in which he preferred to do during the twilight hours. The air was most pleasant during the sparse hours before dawn and the sky was colored beautifully, a true contrast to the reality of war, where the atmosphere was ugly and the air suffocating.

He continued going through the motions, sweat covering his body, and he felt truly revitalized for the first time that he could recall. The dying moon, though, was no longer his only witness. He heard her stir and felt her wake, but she never said anything like he had expected. Not wishing to end his peaceful exercise, he continued on as though he didn't know she was watching him.

It was strange having an audience, making him believe that he'd never practiced like this in front of anyone before. It was his nightly ritual and his alone, but somehow or another, he decided it was acceptable for Kagome to see. So, he continued on, slicing and cutting his nonexistent opponents. He didn't stop until after Kagome had been long asleep.

With practiced fluidity, he replaced his sword into its scabbard and returned it to its proper place next to the other, duller blade. Just as he realized he needed a bath, a heady, earthy scent came to him. It was delightful and forbidden, though as natural as any earth-born scent in existence. He knew this scent well and was rather fond of it.

Kagome must've been having one of _those_ dreams.

Sweat beaded at her brow, her lips parted and her breathing picked up. He could hear her heart race. A tiny, breathy moan filled the distance between them and he tried to look away, feeling disgusted with himself, like a voyeur should, but found that he couldn't. He'd never seen a woman like this before. Her face was flushed and she looked so open and so…soft. He suddenly wondered what she would feel like.

He condemned himself, knowing that he shouldn't want to touch her, but unfortunately, the damage was already done. What if…what if he touched her? What would happen? With that thought, he resigned himself to the nearby stream; its cool waters a needed thing indeed.

As he submerged himself in those frigid waters, knowing by the time he returned and day had broken, that scent would be lost with the beauty of twilight. He now wished he had said something to her earlier, when she had first awoken, but then again, it probably wouldn't have stopped her lascivious dream from happening. And that was the crux of his problem right now—the fact that her dream lived up to its namesake and made her look positively erotic. He then felt compelled to reevaluate his companionship with Kagome. He tried to rejuvenate his hatred of her kind, of human women, but failed, opting instead to remind himself that the hanyou who made him a liar was of whom she dreamt.

As life would have it, though, and much like regret, the what-ifs were the most unbearable.

**x x x**

**Thanks for bearing with me while I revised this story.**


	19. Chapter 19

I'm rather fond of this chapter, so please be kind and tell me what you think!

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 19:**

It was going to rain, he decided after surveying the morning skyline. It was clear and bright, but with a misty breath the wind spoke of oncoming darkness and clashing elements. It reminded him of the monk who loved the scent of rain. His name was Riku and he once told Sesshoumaru that a dog demon's sense of smell was an enviable attribute indeed. Recalling the foul scents of human villages, Sesshoumaru was inclined to disagree.

But now, he wasn't so sure.

_xxx_

It had been silent for a while now, white and black blurring his vision.

"Don't force me to impose a time limit."

He regarded the monk for a moment, then finally placed his black stone on its destined space. Riku bit his lip as Sesshoumaru captured his piece.

"You're always a step ahead of me," Riku said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Riku was modest, too modest. Had he been of greater girth, then he'd have made an excellent general. Then again, aggression wasn't one of his greater attributes.

The monk made another thoughtless play and Sesshoumaru captured another white chain.

"Your play is poor. Is something troubling you?"

The monk smiled. "It isn't often you ask about my feelings. I feel honored."

"I do not care. I simply take no pleasure in defeating a weak opponent."

"How honorable of you," he said sarcastically as he surveyed the playing board. "I'm just thoughtful today."

"Your play suggests otherwise."

The monk's smile grew wider. "You know, it's been almost a decade since you last came to visit me."

"And?"

"And…I feel slighted. You're the best go opponent I've yet to find. I'll be dead by the time you come back to play with me again."

It was true; Riku had aged considerably within those few years. Silver now streaked through his hair and his eyes were sagging, although their luster had yet to dim. His visits with Riku were pleasant, but he never went out of his way to visit the man. Whenever he happened to be in the vicinity, he'd stop by and that was all.

"Perhaps."

Riku didn't look bothered. That was what he liked most about Riku. The monk was realistic to a fault, yet no matter how harsh the reality, Riku never let it bring him down.

"Promise me you'll visit my grave, if only once."

Riku had never asked anything of him before; therefore, the request was acceptable.

"I will pay my respects when the time comes."

"Good. I can die happy now!" Riku grinned and averted his eyes to the ivory stone wedged between his fingers. His smile faded and the air grew bitter. Riku was lying.

"What truly bothers you, monk?"

His lips formed a curious half smile. The man was always smiling.

"Death is what truly bothers me."

"It is inevitable."

"I know, but my time is short."

"Are you afraid?"

"No."

"Then quit wasting my time and make your move."

He laughed then. "Always to the point. I wish I could be more like you, Sesshoumaru-sama. You fear nothing and nothing bothers you. Is it because you fear nothing that nothing bothers you?"

"I have all the time I need, so nothing significantly affects me."

"Liar."

Just because he found Riku agreeable, didn't mean he wouldn't put the man in his place.

"You shouldn't throw accusations around," he warned, a bite infused into his tone.

Riku placed a piece on the board. "You told me once that your only regret was not killing your father's mistress. It would seem that your father bothered you a great deal. You brother has bothered you, too. More than your father perhaps? Or is it just more acceptable to hate your brother more than your father?"

He made his play, his eyes immediately finding the monk's. "You should watch your tongue."

The monk smiled, strategically placing another stone. "Forgive me, Sesshoumaru-sama, but I am only human. We mortals tend to live for the moment, despite how hard we try to fight our nature."

"I suppose it's sensible for such short-lived creatures to live as such. Opportunities would be wasted otherwise."

"So true you are, Sesshoumaru-sama." Riku paused to study the board and Sesshoumaru hoped he was done talking. The conversation was wearing on his nerves. He'd hate to harm Riku. It really was difficult to find suitable go-opponents, especially for a youkai.

Several plays later, Riku once again ruined his quiet reprieve. "I apologize, Sesshoumaru-sama."

He should only apologize for his eternal racket, Sesshoumaru thought. "You have no need to apologize."

"I took my frustrations out on you and I'm sorry for that." He realized then that something was truly bothering the monk, which was most unusual.

"Speak."

"Regret is getting the better of me."

"I thought you lived to avoid such things."

"That doesn't mean it's not going to happen. I regret the one that got away."

"What do you mean?"

"A woman. I lost a woman once. I regret it and wish I would've done things differently."

Men honestly spent too much time worrying over women. It was utterly ridiculous. "I have a similar regret. I once killed a woman only to learn she lived. Somehow, she got away from my poison."

Riku tried to suppress a laugh. "It pains me that you say such things. But I'll let it slide, seeing as how you're jesting. At the same time, and as Fate intended, it ended up better that you didn't succeed in killing her."

In Sesshoumaru's opinion, Riku believed too strongly in Fate. "Perhaps it is better then that you lost your woman," he mocked, placing another black stone and furthering his territory.

"Fate _does_ act according to a higher plan. I have accepted that, but I have my moments of remorse." Sesshoumaru fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I've devoted my life to healing, but I always wanted a family. As you can see, that never happened. I have no one to carry on my legacy and that saddens me. Don't you want children one day, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

Every male that Sesshoumaru had known couldn't keep a woman. "I have no need for children or legacies."

"You're a brave one, Sesshoumaru-sama. But, I think it'd be fitting if that were to be your downfall. A woman should be your undoing." The monk placed a stone so that four of the black chains collapsed at once. "Dead, aren't you?

He sighed as he inspected the board, finding the outcome undeniable. The devious monk had been a step ahead of him the whole time. "Impossible. A woman tried to take me down once and failed. It _won't_ happen again."

"Did you love her?"

"Perhaps."

The monk laughed fully this time. "That's what I love about you, Sesshoumaru-sama! So honest, but deceptively so. Maybe, maybe not—just like life. There are no definitive answers."

Tired of Riku's antics, Sesshoumaru stood, intent on leaving, but Riku made one last statement before he could depart.

"Nothing will turn a man faster than a woman."

_xxx_

He would see Riku twice more. The third time he stopped in that particular village, Riku had been long dead. A peaceful man by nature, Riku found a violent end. A group of renegade samurai attacked his village and though the village men were successful in defending their homes, Riku was one of many that paid the ultimate price of protection. He remembered feeling disappointed; he wouldn't get to play go anymore.

As agreed, he went to the monk's grave to pay his respects. The tomb was simple, as expected for a simple man. His epitaph was comprised of one word and that one word crept inside Sesshoumaru's chest, warming him from within. He briefly wondered if it was done on purpose to test their agreement, but found that in the end, he really didn't care about the motive.

_Perhaps._

Riku was the closest thing to a friend he ever had. He placed a white go-stone on Riku's tomb. Riku was always white; he never liked going first. He always lost when he made the first move, he had said, though Sesshoumaru knew he lost his fair share when moving last as well.

The single-worded epitaph made him recall that particular memory, where Riku spoke of regretting the one that got away. He realized then that Riku always insisted on being white because he was a passive man, one who allowed life to pass him by. Appearances were indeed deceiving. Despite a cheery disposition, Riku was a sad man. Apparently, reality did get the better of him, but Sesshoumaru still found him admirable—his despair was a well-kept secret.

He couldn't get Riku out of his mind this morning. It was going to rain; Riku loved the smell of rain. Just like he loved the scent of Kagome, making him think that perhaps a dog demon's sense of smell was an enviable thing indeed. After all, a human would've never known what was happening to her last night. And as much as he wished to deny it, Kagome made him want to believe in Fate.

Despite that, he wondered if his apathy was making life pass him by, too.

**x x x**

She stole another glance of him as he sipped his broth. Everything he did was so graceful that it made her feel even more like a klutz. However, that was the least of her problems today. She couldn't sleep last night. Well, she slept, but she couldn't _stay_ asleep. He had walked away so suddenly after her comment about his uncle that she couldn't scrap the feeling that she upset him somehow. It was unsettling, and that feeling translated into an inability to sleep.

She had awoken near dawn when the sky took on that beautiful shade of blue, signaling the departure of night and the break of day. It was twilight and Sesshoumaru was practicing his swordsmanship. His chest was bare and a sheet of sweat clung to him, capturing the low glow of moonlight. The sight made the air thick and her skin hot. She had long known he was beautiful, but so was Hokusai's art—and it didn't make her sweat. She realized then that he was not only beautiful, but also very, _very_ attractive. But that still wasn't the worst of it. She had another one of _those_ dreams. It was one of the usual, where Inuyasha said sweet things to her and coaxed her onto her back in a soft meadow, the sun setting prettily in the backdrop. This time, however, they weren't alone. Sesshoumaru was watching. And he didn't look pleased. The image of his disapproving face made her feel dirty and the mood was shot. She didn't even get to finish her dream. His face was haunting her, making her feel confused and, most of all, _angry_.

Needless to say, she was having trouble making eye contact with him all day.

"The conveniences of your era are simply astounding," he said while carefully inspecting the styrofoam cup in his hand. "How is this made? It seems less natural than most of your things, with the exception of that _plastic_ stuff."

"I have no idea how it's made, and it _is_ less natural than most man-made products. It's so artificial it's not even biodegradable!"

"What does that mean?" he asked, turning his eyes on her.

Subconsciously, and like a coward, she looked away. "It means it's not good for the environment. Styrofoam will never decay into its baser elements like most things do."

"I thought you said humans were trying to be more _environmentally friendly_?"

"They are." She still couldn't muster the courage to look at him.

"Then why are they continuing to create products that will compromise the integrity of the environment?"

"I don't know, they just do."

"You've been rather short-winded today."

"I'm just not feeling very talkative, that's all."

"How odd. I never imagined I'd hear those words from _your_ mouth."

"Quit being a pompous jerk!" she said accusingly, pointing a finger at him. "I have moods just like everyone else!"

"Of that, I am aware, but at least you're looking at me now."

He was right; she was maintaining direct eye contact, like she always did when feeling indignant. The fact that _he_ pointed it out, however, infuriated her. She wouldn't be surprised if he was really telepathic and kept his power a secret so that he could flaunt his contrived superiority. She honestly couldn't get away with anything around him!

She responded by ignoring him and thankfully he took the hint, opting to read a biology book under the shade of a tree. He had said he was going to study biodegradation since she was 'knowledgeably lacking' in that area. She didn't even care to retort his comments, instead choosing to spend the day in contemplation. She was having trouble stomaching the possibility that she was becoming attracted to Inuyasha's brother. So the rest of the day was spent in silence, until the sky darkened and the clouds collided, distantly signifying an oncoming storm.

She immediately set to work constructing the tiny tent she had brought from home for occasions like these, but apparently the storm wasn't as distant as she had first thought. The rain suddenly fell, soaking through her clothes with cruel immediacy. She huffed in frustration and cursed her luck. Inuyasha always warned her of oncoming rain before it became a problem. She gathered up her stuff frantically, damned the tent and opted to simply throw the main tarp over her things. However, the rain already had its way with her formerly dry clothing reserve. Now thoroughly pissed off, her attention focused on Sesshoumaru, who was conveniently zipping her biology book in a plastic baggie.

"Could you _not_ smell the rain coming?" she asked mockingly. "Can't _you__sense_ these things?"

"I sensed it."

"When?" His tone of voice was far too indifferent for her liking.

"I'm not sure. Morning perhaps?"

"Not sure? You could have warned me! I wasn't prepared for a downpour!" she hollered across the short distance, knowing he'd hear her nonetheless. She desperately hoped her volume irked him.

"The thought never occurred to me."

If she was pissed before, then she was unnaturally infuriated now. He didn't tell her on purpose, like he knew how she'd respond, granting him with another comedic reprieve at her expense. She was getting so tired of his antics—of _him_. He stole a good night's rest from her, polluted her mind with ghastly thoughts, and even turned her into a coward! Feeling especially flustered and despising his recurrent advantage over her, she decided to play her only trump card. Even if he couldn't remember, the old Sesshoumaru was still lurking within him, and the old Sesshoumaru hated being bested by Inuyasha.

"Inuyasha _always_ warns me of rain. I guess you're not as courteous as your brother, or maybe his senses are just better." That would piss him off, she thought, but it wasn't like he'd do anything about it. He was too rational to act upon a feeling with no memory attached.

Had she known the consequences of that statement, she would've kept her mouth shut.

He stood slowly, too slowly. Her feet moved backward of their own accord, making her feel like cornered prey. She remembered all too well how lethal Sesshoumaru could be; he could kill her more ways than she cared to count. Fear gripped her, diligently working its way under her skin as she watched the rain beat against him, unyielding and thorough as it engulfed him. His clothes clung to him and his eyes disappeared under heavy bangs, making her trepidation grow all the more. She didn't like his rigid stance or the fact that she couldn't see his eyes. The earth was so hot that steam rose as the rain fell, a fog forming, further obscuring his body. This was the first time she had been truly afraid of him since he regained consciousness. This feeling was sickening—just like his silence.

He was walking toward her now, water skating across his shoulders. She took note of the breadth of his frame and her mouth ran dry. He was perfect under any context of physicality. Lean yet thick, strong and limber; every muscle was traced unforgivably, yet he looked so touchable. Her thoughts startled her and she willed herself to look away, but every movement he made captivated her, and as though spellbound, she couldn't look away.

Unknowingly, she stepped back again, her heels registering the presence of a tree. Before she could reposition herself, he was right in front of her. She gasped and backed away, her movement halted by sturdy bark. He was looking at her in that way that made her skin tingle. Goosebumps broke out on her arms despite the muggy air. He stepped closer and she finally summoned the courage to rip her eyes from him. Her eyes slid across his face to rest on his jaw. The muscle rolled and she knew he was going to say something.

"It's not wise to compare people, Kagome." His voice was soft yet stern, almost a whisper, but not quite. She couldn't breathe, opting to focus on the line of his jaw in the hopes it'd keep her mind clear. It didn't, instead, making her want to trace it. Would it be so bad if she did? What if she traced the line of his jaw? _What if…_

Feeling flustered and especially hot, she tore her eyes away from his face. She didn't trust herself to look at him, not when his body was so close. As though sensing her dilemma, he stepped even closer, the space between them significantly lacking. Still refusing to look at him, she nearly lost her footing when he whispered in her ear, the warmth of his breath making it feel like his mouth was brushing across her. Her eyes closed and her spine shuddered.

"Why won't you look at me, Kagome?"

She fought the urge to slide down the tree and cry to herself. She begged the gods to make her disappear, if only for a minute or two.

"Why?" he asked again, his tone maintaining an air of quiet fascination. She couldn't take much more of this—of _him_. She wanted to live simply and peacefully, yet he managed to add confusion and complexity to her humble little existence. She wanted to hate him for it. She wanted him to move, damn it! That was when she realized her hands were planted on his chest. She felt suddenly detached from her own body. He was warm and she liked it, the way he felt there…

She shoved him away and slid between his body and the tree's trunk, running feverishly into the woods. The fog was blinding, though in her current hysteria, it really didn't matter. She couldn't see anything but his shadowed eyes. She could only hear her own labored breathing, its severity drowned by pouring rain, nature's tears masking her own.

She tripped over a wry root, her knees anchoring themselves in the soppy mud. Her chest ached and she cried, uninhibited, her confusion eating her alive. She never felt so confused in all her life. When her breathing calmed and her eyes stung, she was finally able to hear something other than steady rain and gasping pants. Footsteps stopped in front of her, her eyes automatically traveling upward. Anger subdued confusion as she silently cursed him for following her. He was dripping wet and silent as he watched her and she hated him for it; for standing while she knelt, for looking down while she looked up. Then, he did the most unexpected thing. He knelt before her and took off his shirt. She reined in her shock, faintly realizing that he neared her and wrapped the garment around her torso, the black fabric undoubtedly covering more of her than her translucent white one. She wanted to cry all over again.

He grasped her right hand and she was too tired to care. He turned it over in his own, his fingers gentle as they explored every inch of her hand. Her stomach flipped when his finger slid over her callus.

"I killed you once, but it seems you didn't stay dead." Her thoughts started running in circles as his words seared her mind. He remembered her. His fingers slid down and wrapped around her wrist, her palm still unable to relax. He turned her hand over again, her fingers loosening, when suddenly he pulled her nearer, her body flanked by his knees. "I suppose I was never meant to kill a miko."

She swallowed, her mouth running dry as she stared at him. She caught sight of a single droplet of water running down his shoulder. Her eyes traced it over his collarbone. She then realized he was watching her the whole time. She registered the onset of panic, its existence hurried to life when she heard the familiar _pit-pat_ of rain beating against thin plastic.

She focused on her breathing, hoping to forget her bodily position, as she looked up, not terribly surprised to see Miroku standing there, a knowing smirk set upon his lips and a dark umbrella shadowing his eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, that unforgivable smile still plastered to his face.

Her eyes traveled back to Sesshoumaru, he, too, sporting an elusive half smile. Her confusion and anger died with the past then, embarrassment staking its claim.

They both knew, and she wanted to die because of it.

**x x x**


	20. Chapter 20

This story placed 1st in the IYFG for Best Canon! Thanks to all of you who voted for it and a special thanks to PlayingWithDemons, sesshysjaded samurai and Quirkyslayer for getting this story through the nomination process. Thanks for your persistent support of my story.

Most importantly, thanks to all you guys who were kind enough to leave me a review—they keep me writing. Sorry for the confusion centered around last chapter's ending, but it was done on purpose, as you will see. Thanks again!

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 20:**

It was her anger intermingled with fear that had sparked the memory. A dreadful memory followed by snippets of an equally horrific one, both similar in nature. He had tried to kill her, twice in fact.

She had been irritable all day and he found it odd. Not that he was unaccustomed to her moods, but rather he was perplexed since her anger usually followed a clear path of cause and effect. This time, however, the cause was unidentifiable. After her brazen comment, which was a rather pathetic attempt to slight him, he'd had no intention of frightening her, or letting her win for that matter. He wouldn't stoop so low as to play her childish game and satisfy her by mimicking her ridiculous and unfounded mood. He had only intended to make a scathing remark in order to knock her back into perspective. But things didn't always go as planned.

Apparently, the way he stood, which was purposely methodical, but only to give himself ample time to formulate a proper retort, she began to panic and fear vied for dominance over her rage. He didn't understand the cause of this fear, which had yet to mark her with its ghastly scent in his presence. Just as his mind searched for a plausible answer, a blurred memory crept into his sight. The rain dulled his senses and so he felt the need to get as close to her as possible. The lesser the distance between them, the clearer the memory became.

A tomb—his father's tomb—filled his vision, a spellbound sword the focus of his sight. He couldn't pull the sword from its pedestal and magic bit his skin, burning, like his chest. He remembered feeling the flames of rage licking at his heart. Even in death his father had denied him. Not only the Tetsusaiga, but also his presence, choosing instead to hide his tomb's whereabouts from the only son that could even recall his face.

He had invited Inuyasha to follow and wished he hadn't. His fury was fresh when Inuyasha and that human girl entered the tomb. He could hardly control his rage, seeing as how Inuyasha had brought a human wench with him. A hanyou was unworthy enough to enter the final resting-place of a powerful youkai, but due to heritage, it was deemed acceptable. A filthy mortal, especially a female mortal, had no right to desecrate his father's tomb with her sickly presence.

Luckily, his pride did remain intact; contrary to the little harlot's voiced sentiments. He couldn't stand her from the moment he saw her; she was a human female after all. Her comments to Inuyasha only heightened his hate, but he was able to ignore her since Inuyasha failed to procure the Tetsusaiga as well. He remembered cutting words leaving his tongue, but he didn't care. He only hoped that the cuts were deep. A fight ensued and he was confident that his promise to himself would finally be fulfilled. Then, the unexpected happened.

The girl, the human girl, pulled the sword from its pedestal, a feat that neither a youkai or a hanyou could accomplish. And that was unacceptable. That time, however, he didn't have to wait fifty years to see his failure. He hated her for it—for making him witness his own failure while his brother was present—and in his father's tomb no less.

Again, his father denied him. The fang of his father saved her life. He wondered in that moment if his father was laughing at him from beyond the grave. That thought resulted in a blinding fury, prompting him to transform so that he could flaunt his power over his brother—the one his father had preferred.

Then, Inuyasha severed his arm in one clean, powerful slice. The Tetsusaiga accepted him and Sesshoumaru felt like a fool.

"_It was not wise for him to fight us in his primal form. A lack of tactical wisdom in such a powerful being is indicative of lunacy."_

Had he gone mad? He imagined Kazuma turning his back to him in that moment. His chest clenched as he fell, his father's tomb diminishing, the end far from sight.

"_Blind fury will be your downfall, boy."_

He laughed to himself then, knowing that Kazuma was and had always been right. It was a horrible realization from the past, reaffirming its truth as he bled. Kazuma had once told him to forget his feelings for his father, implying the potential of danger of sentimentality. He wished he'd listened, but then again, burning hatred was difficult to ignore, much less vanquish into nothingness.

Upon remembering how he hated to be made a fool, he resolved himself to pick up the pieces of his pride and he escaped that world, once again intent on keeping his vow to kill his brother.

The next time he met them, their group had grown, but that didn't matter. He had a human arm granting him the ability to wield the Tetsusaiga. Inuyasha was the son of the proud Inu no Taishou; he wouldn't let the humans interfere.

He took his father's fang with ease and once again flaunted his immense power with childish glee. His brother had always brought out the worst in him. That impudent wench interfered, despite his and Inuyasha's warnings. She knew things she shouldn't have known and he felt the stinging onset of fury. It became blinding when she transformed the Tetsusaiga back into a dull, useless blade. It needed time to overcome her magic and he realized then that she was a miko. He itched to slay one.

The foolish girl ignored his second warning, which was foolhardy indeed. She should have accepted his rare generosity—he never gave second chances. Then again, he was going to kill her anyway, after he dealt Inuyasha the finishing blow.

Her arrow was weak—her power of purity even weaker—and he caught it easily, deliberately melting it into oblivion so that he could bask in her growing fear. And bask he did. As luck would have it, the Wind Scar failed, its power still not fully regenerated. He figured the after effects and debris would do her in, but Inuyasha shielded her. He became irritated and Inuyasha became inspired. The hanyou was more fearsome after the miko's near death experience, making him wonder if sentimentality had some positive points.

His fury at a second failure consumed him and he became careless, although he didn't realize it until the Tetsusaiga switched hands. He swore he heard his father's laughter.

A human woman pulled the Tetsusaiga from its bed of stone—something he could not do. A human woman reversed the Tetsusaiga's transformation—again, something he could not do. She was powerful. Not in the sense that she posed a genuine threat to him, but rather she was powerful in her ability to manipulate a situation. That alone had caused him to fail and she deserved to die for it. But it was not meant to be on that day.

No, Riku was wrong—he _had_ to be. Fate could not possibly exist, for such an omnipotent entity could not be unjust enough to continuously deny one person. That was what he had thought as he walked away from an unconscious Inuyasha, still miraculously wielding a sword. Going after the annoying miko would be too troublesome. He wanted to kill Inuyasha first anyhow and seeing the change she caused within the hanyou when her life was threatened made him hesitant to take her out beforehand. On second thought, her death would make Inuyasha a more enjoyable opponent. Perhaps sentimentality was a force to be reckoned with.

He was wicked; Kagome was pure. Why was she here with him? That question suddenly became more important than any wonderment of a future five hundred years away. It was obvious that she had forgiven him, but he wanted to know the motivation behind it. Had he actually done something to repent his sins toward her? He couldn't help but believe otherwise.

He pulled his legs out from under him and stretched one out lazily and kept the other upright, bent at the knee. Tenseiga was still gripped between his fingers and he propped up in between his legs, resting his forehead upon its hilt. He once thought his inheritance useless, furthering his belief that his father had always hated him. But now, he wasn't so sure. He remembered unparalleled pain. Pain that should have killed him, but it didn't. Not with Tenseiga strapped to his hip.

Tenseiga was a beautiful sword. It was smooth and perfect, quite contrary to Tetsusaiga. Two different swords crafted from the same set of fangs, both intrinsically likened to their masters. That thought made him smile.

He brushed his thumb down Tenseiga's sheath, wondering if he should try harder to forgive his father. Perhaps his father wasn't laughing at him beyond the grave; maybe he was sighing in disappointment. The thought was brief, however, replaced by a much different musing as he appreciated the smoothness of his sword's sheath. He wondered if Kagome would feel as smooth. He didn't doubt that she would, but she'd be much, much softer.

He then remembered the way she looked at him that afternoon when the monk appeared, only to take her away. Hungry curiosity dominated her eyes as she slowly consumed the planes of his chest and shoulders. In that moment, he knew he could have her if he sought to take her.

Why would she look at him like that? He was too wicked to be worthy of her affection.

He envisioned the generous curve of her hips and the way she licked her lips. His previously comfortable sweatpants weren't so roomy anymore. He wondered when he last felt this way—hot and unsatisfied. As the drizzling rain fell upon him, he thought that his body must have been contributing to the curdling fog.

He didn't think he was mistaken, but he hated being made the fool. If his assumption was wrong, then he'd most definitely feel like a fool. Perhaps he should test his theory, but how would he do so without being too forthcoming?

With her eyes, she followed the path of his shoulder to his collarbone and over his chest. Being a man, he knew that every male liked a slender neck, plump breasts and a round derriere, but those were universal points of attraction. On top of those, every man had his own unique aspect of female physicality that drove him mad. Kazuma, for example, had a strange leg fetish. Sesshoumaru, on the other hand, loved wide hips, of which the gods had generously bestowed upon Kagome. Though he had never before cared enough to discover, he figured women must be similar. Could his shoulders be one of those for Kagome? His chest too? Perhaps he should try wearing a shirt less often and see what happens. However, he wasn't so sure that he wanted to have her, especially in_ that _context. She was pure and human and she loved his brother. But he'd never had a human female before…

He sighed with indecision and leaned back against the tree, Tenseiga sliding down his arm to rest against his shoulder. Again, he wondered if his father was laughing at his thoughts. But thoughts were thoughts and he couldn't choose their path. His pants became even more of a hindrance as he imagined sliding his hand over Kagome's bare hip. He ignored the discomfort as it was enticingly balanced by a pleasurable feeling. He remembered why he liked sex so much. The feeling of desire was always at odds with the feeling of insatiability, a beautiful conflict that ended in such alleviating resolution.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Sesshoumaru allowed himself the reprieve of a fantasy. It was nice to daydream and he wondered why he put his imagination on hold for so long.

If only he could get Kagome out of his head.

**x x x**

The rain slowed considerably as they walked, both huddled under the small umbrella. If it had been Sesshoumaru walking with her, she figured he'd refuse the meager shelter, saying something along the lines of: "That is not necessary." Miroku, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind the tight quarters.

Despite his awkward timing, she was really glad to see him. She needed to talk to someone _other than _Sesshoumaru.

"What am I doing?" They were so close that she could feel him turning his head to look at her.

"Taking a leisurely stroll. Honestly, Kagome-sama, where has your head been?"

"I'm being serious, Miroku. What _am_ I doing?"

She could feel him take a deep breath. "What you always do—try to help people. I would never have imagined that you'd stay with him after he regained consciousness, but I suppose things got complicated when you realized he didn't know who he was. It would've been cruel to leave him like that. I suppose you also thought it a good opportunity to learn why he hates Inuyasha. It's admirable, really, but sometimes people don't want to be helped. This time it is rather odd."

"So I'm a busybody, huh?"

She could feel him smile. "No, not really. You're the type that hates to see conflict, especially unnecessary conflict that comes between family. Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru-sama are brothers. You want to know why they hate each other so that you can help them come to terms. Unfortunately, you choose quite the troubled pair."

"Well, I guess it just seemed easy because Sesshoumaru couldn't remember anything. Even Inuyasha made it seem so easy!"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but Inuyasha isn't taking this so well."

"What? He seemed okay with it."

"Has Inuyasha ever been okay with Sesshoumaru-sama?"

"No, I guess not," she replied lazily, her tone seeming to synchronize with the languorous rain. She suddenly felt like she lacked the energy to have this conversation.

"Inuyasha fought with himself over this. I think he did well, though. He was angry about your decision to help Sesshoumaru-sama and he was even angrier that you lied to him. But, he took into account the recent rift between you two and made a wise choice. I applaud him for his efforts. It's been hard for him."

Just thinking of Inuyasha made her tired, but she couldn't ignore Miroku's words. She hadn't put much thought into how difficult it was for Inuyasha to openly accept what she was doing. She felt really inconsiderate all of a sudden. "He asked you for advice, didn't he?"

"Yes. I warned him of the ramifications of losing his cool. He heeded my advice for once," Miroku said, sounding a little too proud and entirely too cheerful.

"Do you think what I'm doing is okay?"

"Kagome, I've always kept your secrets and respected your feelings. I understand that you needed to keep this from the others, but me? I only wish that you would have confided in me." His voice was fading, like the rain.

"I'm sorry." She, too, was fading. If only she could disappear…

"It's fine, really. I know how you are. I think lower youkai might have killed him just for being a taiyoukai. A warrior should die in battle, not while unconscious and helpless. Though it is hard to imagine Sesshoumaru-sama being helpless," he said, laughter hiding within his tone. It made her feel a little better—just a little. "I do understand your reasoning as far as that's concerned, but you were careless. I would have accompanied you. My cursed hand would've ensured our safety."

"I can be careless when it comes to my own safety."

"I know. I just don't understand why you're still with him. Personally, I could care less about their history. They fight now, in the present, and that's just how it is. I don't like interfering with family matters. Had you told me, though, I would have been worried. He is quite deadly, but he has also stopped pursuing Inuyasha's blood. I wonder why, but I guess I've always assumed it was because they found a common enemy. Maybe that's not the whole truth. However, it does seem unlikely that he would attack you. There would be no honor in killing a fragile human woman. But he is a youkai, and they can be unpredictable when injured. I'm curious, though. Why did you want to help him so badly?"

"I actually didn't put much thought into him being killed while vulnerable," she admitted, feeling like a fool. "But his injuries were unusually devastating and for a moment I thought they might kill him. The truth is that I've always felt useless, but every now and then I can save someone. I'm always the one needing to be rescued and I've usually gotten to return the favor at least once. I saved you when you were poisoned. I saved Inuyasha from Yura and the spider demons and I even stopped the tainted shards from killing Kouga. I've never been able to return the favor to Sesshoumaru. I wanted to erase my debt."

"Sesshoumaru-sama has never intended to save you, whereas the others you spoke of have. He probably never even considered it a debt."

"You're probably right, but there's that little girl that follows him around. She worships him, like a father."

"You really are admirable, Kagome-sama." Again, she felt him smile and this time it was contagious. She smiled beneath the dark cover of the umbrella as a comforting warmth rose from the ground.

"Thanks, Miroku. I needed to hear that. But, why did you show up today?" She really was surprised to see him. She wasn't surprised in the moment of his arrival, not with the sound of rain on plastic, and her mixed feelings subdued her shock. But now, she really wanted to know what had prompted his visit.

"Well, Inuyasha told me what you were doing and I knew you wanted your peace so I tried to stay away, but in the end I couldn't. You have a lot of weight on your shoulders, in this era and your own. You don't get any reprieves. I figured this was a rare opportunity for you to relax. But, I was worried…and…curious."

"Curious? About what?"

"I was just dying to see how you and Sesshoumaru-sama interacted! I never would have imagined! I know I spoiled an intimate moment, but your eyes were swollen and I was afraid that he had hurt your feelings, and then he came and took your hand—"

"_Miroku_!"

"Have I embarrassed you? You're a grown woman now and grown women have needs—there's nothing to be ashamed of. The gods know how frigid Inuyasha is and so this must be a blessing for you. Trust me, the reality of it is far superior to the dreams!"

Embarrassed felt like an understatement. She was actually beginning to think that maybe he hadn't noticed or that perhaps he was just being considerate and wasn't going to say anything. She was dead wrong.

"I…I…don't know what you're talking about!"

He laughed and she could feel it in her chest. "Seriously, I wish the well would allow Sango and I through. I could treat my eyes to all the scantily clad women and maybe Sango would loosen up a bit!"

"_What_?"

"I'd be a happy man if Sango looked at me like you looked at Sesshoumaru-sama."

"You must have misinterpreted it. I didn't look at him like—"

"You need to quit fighting your urges, Kagome-sama. Inuyasha hasn't pleasured you yet, so what makes you think that he will? And I'm not funny like that, but I can say with objective authority that Sesshoumaru-sama is a very handsome man. I've always wondered if youkai males were more generously endowed than humans since so many beautiful women seem uncannily attracted to them. You will tell me, won't you, Kagome-sama?"

She was speechless. She stopped walking and Miroku immediately noticed. It felt like her legs were made of stone.

"No need to panic. I'll give you all the pointers you need. If you're lucky, which I wouldn't doubt, then Sesshoumaru-sama will be quite the experienced lover." He winked at her then. He _winked_ at her! She closed her eyes and waited for lightning to strike her dead. "Don't be embarrassed. It's just me here."

"He…he hates humans," she ground out in a raspy voice. It didn't sound like her voice. It didn't even sound convincing.

"Apparently, there's a lot of things about Sesshoumaru-sama that don't fit. A human man stabbed him in the back and he simply walked away. I'm not calling Sesshoumaru-sama a liar, but I don't think he presents himself honestly. Like that little girl you talked about. If he hates her kind so much, then why does he keep her?"

She blinked, her stupor wearing off. She knew his hatred of humans was contrived, but it was difficult to believe that he'd even consider being with her in _that_ way. She was entirely too plain. As always, Miroku knew what she was thinking.

"Is it so hard to imagine? You sell yourself short, Kagome-sama. You're beautiful and interesting. I think he's curious. For instance, I've always wondered what it'd be like to fool around with a youkai. She'd probably be a savage in the sack. So maybe it's not too far-fetched to think a youkai would be curious about a human."

"Gods, Miroku, it sounds like you're encouraging this. And _this_ just happens to be the product of your over-active imagination!" She hoped he'd buy it. She really needed to read a book on persuasive selling techniques.

"I just don't want you to wait around for Inuyasha. Enjoy your youth. It's okay to be with a man, Kagome-sama. I want you to experience it. On your current path, it'll be years before you know a man's touch. Trust me, sexual frustration really messes with you."

"I have enough stress! I don't need you pushing me into something that'll probably never happen! I don't even _want him_!"

"I don't mean to push, but sex is the best stress reliever on earth! I think you have a better chance with him than you think. I think you want him, but you're convincing yourself that you don't because of Inuyasha. It's okay to want someone and have them without loving them. Just don't make it a habit."

"What makes you think I want him? And for that matter, what makes you think I have a chance with him, Mr. Know-It-All?"

"You looked at him like he was the first bit of cool water you'd seen on a hot summer's day. Don't even _try_ to deny it. As for your last question, when you looked at him like that, he smiled."

Sesshoumaru smiled? She recalled his smirk, but she thought it was because he found her discomfort amusing. Could he—no, she wouldn't even think of it. "Okay, he's attractive, so sue me! That doesn't mean I'm entertaining thoughts of _being with him_!"

"Fair enough. I expected you to say something like that."

"Then why'd you say all those ridiculous things?"

"To bring it to your attention. I'm simply planting the seed and it'll only grow from here."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You just openly admitted that you find him attractive. With denial out of the way, the attraction is bound to grow. See, I'm not _pushing_ you, just pointing you in the right direction."

"How is _that_ the _right_ direction? You're talking about my virginity here!" She winced, realizing once again that her mouth was getting the better of her. Her careless words were only validating Miroku's beliefs.

"You need to get over Inuyasha and this is the easiest way! You pine for him and mourn over him. You've been in the process of moving on, but somehow or another your progress has stagnated. I hate seeing you wanton. It's high time to find a semblance of satisfaction in your life, Kagome-sama."

It was true that she needed some satisfaction in her life, but she wasn't convinced that a fling with Sesshoumaru was the answer. She'd be better off finding a guy in her own time, as far-fetched as that sounded. Despite what Miroku said, she just couldn't believe that Sesshoumaru wanted her. A smile was simply not enough to verify that. Honestly, she shouldn't be considering these kinds of things anyway. She was just a sexually frustrated young woman who was inevitably lured toward a very attractive man. It was just an urge created by unfulfilled needs. She would not fall into temptation and she would not betray Inuyasha.

It was stupid, really. Sesshoumaru would _never_ want her anyway.

**x x x**

"_Sesshoumaru-sama!"_

He jerked upright, his feet on the ground immediately. A female's voice screamed for him and he could only think of one female in the vicinity that knew him—Kagome must be in danger. The rain dulled his senses, but it was fading, although the elements remained rather meaningless. After tailing Kagome once, he knew the path she normally took when going home. Obviously the deceitful monk could have lured her elsewhere in order to accost her, but she had said she needed to go home to retrieve dry clothing and so he wasted no time in running toward that particular clearing, cursing himself for allowing her to leave with that questionable monk. He didn't trust that man, not from the time he had first met him that village. Well, it wasn't the first time they had met, but it might as well have been their first meeting.

Tenseiga was still gripped between his fingers as he ran, his beating heart silencing the steady thrum of rain. He didn't need a sharp sword to slay that monk. After a few moments had passed, he spotted the monk, alone and walking toward the campsite he had just abandoned. The monk looked shocked when Sesshoumaru appeared before him.

"Where is Kagome?" he asked lowly, ready to slice the monk's throat at the slightest indication of a lie.

"She's at home, but she'll be back soon."

He didn't detect any fallacies, but something about the man just rubbed him the wrong way. "You're hiding something," he stated threateningly, making circumvention an ill-fated option.

The monk smiled. "No, not at all. But I did want to speak with you about—"

Just as he was about to grab the monk's throat, the same screaming voice once again resounded in his head: _"Sesshoumaru-sama!"_ He paused and discreetly surveyed his surroundings, the monk's unease complicating his inspection.

"_Rin, do as you like."_

He froze as he recognized his own voice and realized that Kagome hadn't called for him. Kagome never used an honorific in conjunction with his name. It was a memory, a broken one. More importantly, who was Rin? Riku's face suddenly came to his mind, his lips moving, but the words remained unheard. Then flowers, beautiful white flowers, swayed with an imaginary breeze. He heard laughter and smelt sunshine. But it was raining.

"Sesshoumaru-sama?" the monk asked.

He saw those white blossoms strung together and looped over a thick, scaly neck. A raspy purr rumbled beneath his fingertips as bloodied hands grasped a set of leather reigns. A torrent of images ran through his mind and he pressed his fist to his forehead, willing the world inside his head to slow.

"Sesshoumaru-sama, are you all right?"

His head started pounding and his heart raced, each thrum painfully loud. He clenched his jaw and suddenly, the world grew silent. He could smell fresh fish and dirty mushrooms. She had been battered and she was unkempt. He didn't ask her, not at first, but her state of being grated on his nerves. It wasn't that she offended him, but rather the adults that allowed her appearance to deteriorate had angered him. Parents shouldn't neglect their children. But he wouldn't ask because he didn't care. He just wanted her to go away.

She didn't speak and he didn't mind. One day, when she came to him, she had fresh injuries and her eye was swollen shut. It was the worst he had seen her. The words just left his mouth, his tongue sealing his fate like a hot blade to a deep wound. She didn't tell him, just smiled, her laughter the only sound he could hear. She was strange and unafraid and she was just a child, an abandoned child, and a wolf had killed her. He wondered if she had ever known love, even for a moment.

His grip on Tenseiga tightened as he remembered her lifeless body. Her eyes were still open and dull and it disturbed him. He had said it was just a test. That was true; Tenseiga had finally reacted. But she had tried to help him, albeit unnecessarily. Humans didn't help demons, especially human females.

She was abandoned.

He cut down the pall-bearing imps.

"Sesshoumaru-sama, do you need to lie down?"

He looked at the monk that knew Kagome and saw Riku's face. The rain fell quietly around them, its scent seeming to cleanse his body.

"I can't remember the way she smells," he whispered, still seeing the wrong man. Riku would have loved her, like he loved the rain.

"Who?"

"_Nothing will turn a man faster than a woman."_

"Rin."

**x x x**

Sorry for the wait, guys, but I've been really stressed lately. It's hard to write when my mind is clouded.


	21. Chapter 21

I am proud to announce that this story has been nominated in the Feudal Association for Best Drama. Thank you to the person that nominated it. 

To my reviewers, I owe you guys a heartfelt thanks. Your kind words were so inspirational that my muse couldn't wait to get this chapter out of my head. To those of you that might be getting frustrated with the pace—don't worry, the next transition in their relationship is soon to come! Thanks for reading!

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 21:**

The hot water felt fantastic as it ran down her body. It was refreshing as it cleansed her, but most importantly, it was predictable. She wished she could stay in the shower forever. That was until she noticed water trickling down her shoulder. It made her think of Sesshoumaru.

She turned off the water.

"_It's high time to find a semblance of satisfaction in your life..."_

Miroku's words echoed off the tiled walls as she stared at the dripping faucet. She couldn't even enjoy the satisfaction of a shower, much less the promised gratification of a man. She had no control over her life, so there was no point in trying to find satisfaction. If Fate brought it to her, then so be it. Hell, she couldn't even control her thoughts.

She swore her mother must have been nearing menopause by the way she used the air conditioning this summer. She shivered as she dried herself, goose bumps breaking out on her arms and legs. She thought of the way Sesshoumaru looked at her, like she was the only person in the world. She frowned as she wiped the condensation from the mirror. She studied herself carefully, like she couldn't remember how she looked.

_"You're beautiful…"_

She had never been able to see beauty in the mirror. Her reflection fogged over and she sighed, promptly leaving the bathroom to go get dressed. She went to her closet immediately, wondering if it was still raining in the Feudal Era. She figured it was and swiped a baggy t-shirt from a hanger. As she tugged it over her head, she noticed a laundry basket on the floor and grabbed a fresh pair of panties. As she pulled them up her legs, she saw her white halter-top folded neatly at the top of the pile. The last time she wore it Sesshoumaru looked at her like she was a different woman. She blushed upon remembering how close he was as he smelled her.

The door suddenly opened to reveal her mother delivering yet another basket of clean clothes. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey! I didn't realize you were out of the shower."

Kagome smiled, thankful for a distraction. "It's not like you would've seen something you haven't seen before."

Her mother smiled back. "True, but I like to respect my children's privacy."

"Thanks for the clothes, mom. I'd be lost without you." Her mother gave her a strange look then and Kagome wondered if she could see the underlying confusion. She didn't get to think on it for long.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you!" her mother said excitedly. Kagome loved the way her mother's voice sounded when she was happy. "Another man from the foundation stopped by earlier today. He said, with our consent of course, that they'd also like to renovate the shrine. You know, make it look like it once did. Your grandfather is so excited about it! We've needed some work done on it for a while now, but we haven't been able to, not with all the recent financial constraints."

"That's great, mama! When are they going to start?"

"Well, he said he'd be back in a few months with the final plans and itinerary, but construction probably wouldn't start for another few months after that. He said we could have the final say in the work to be done, but I just gave him the go-ahead since they're being nice enough to do this for us. But don't worry, I told him that the well was off-limits."

"You didn't say it like that, did you?"

"No, I simply said that the well has a special significance to our family and so we want it to be left as it is."

"Mama! That sounds weird!"

"No, not at all. I told him that our family comes from a long line of priests and that it's believed many demons were exorcised in the well and so I'd prefer their resting-place not to be disturbed."

"Great. He probably thinks we're nuts."

"Speaking of _he_, I want you to be here when he returns."

"Huh?"

"Oh, Kagome, you should have seen him! I may be getting older, but I can still appreciate a handsome young man. He can't be but a few years older than you and he must be very ambitious to have risen so quickly to a position of such responsibility."

"_Mama_!"

"It can't hurt to just meet him. You're such a pretty girl so I doubt he'll mind. What was his name again? Takahashi, I think? Takahashi…Ichimaru? Yes, that's it—Takahashi Ichimaru!"

"Ichimaru? That's kind of old-fashioned." Her thoughts once again traversed back to Sesshoumaru. She cursed herself—and Miroku.

"I know, but I think it's adorable. I asked him if his parents were fond of ships! He laughed and said that his family was a bit traditional. I found him charming. When he returns, you are to be here by dawn on that day and that's an order, young lady!" her mother commanded playfully.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Perhaps snagging a guy in this era wasn't such a far-fetched notion, although there was no solid evidence that this mystery man would even spare her a second glance. If he did, then Miroku might lay off her case. Considering her crazy thoughts lately, she was beginning to think that she should leave Sesshoumaru to his own devices. But how would she go about doing that? What would she say?

"Kagome, is something bothering you?"

"No, I just need to get some clothes together. I have to go back."

"Okay. I'll get out of your hair then," her mother said, her cheerful tone still carrying her voice. Her mother walked out into the hallway and lingered there for a moment. "I'm really glad you've been stopping by more often. Thank you. It makes my heart rest easier." With that said, her mother gently closed the door behind her.

After that day when she cried by the god tree, her mother always feared she'd devote her life to Inuyasha. Back then, she thought she just might, but it wouldn't be a problem because she could always use the well to visit her family. But what if it stopped working or what if she fell prey to disease or war? These were the things she thought about now. That's why she knew she couldn't stay in the Feudal Era for the rest of her days. Something told her that the well wouldn't always work like it did now.

She took a deep breath and somehow her eyes found that white top again. Goose pimples resurfaced upon recalling the intensity of his stares. It was dangerous, but she liked the way it felt. She ran her fingers through her damp hair as she contemplated wearing something cute today, if only to feel that way for a moment, like she was the only woman in the world. It was a contrived notion, for Sesshoumaru wasn't giving her special attention on purpose, but it was nice to pretend that a man could see her in such a light—a light that shone on her alone.

After getting dressed and eating an early supper, she left her house, stopping briefly in the shed to procure a sheet of plastic that she and Souta used as a makeshift slip n' slide when they were little. She didn't want to sleep on a wet ground after all. She slipped both arms though her canvas knapsack, something she could never do with her jumbo yellow pack, which was currently in the Feudal Era resting under a piece of tarp. She then stuffed the plastic sheet through the small space between her back and knapsack, readjusted her skirt and leapt into the well. This time, she kept her eyes closed and lent her mind and body to the pure sensation of floating through time. The feeling was indescribable, like drifting through thick air with no land below her feet, but she knew she wouldn't fall—Fate wouldn't allow it. This was trust.

Miroku was there, waiting, like he had said. She smiled and he whistled.

"I see that you're heeding my advice as well," he said brightly.

"No, not at all, but you and my mother keep telling me I'm beautiful and for once I want to feel like it." He laughed and she loved it. She wanted to always remember the way his laughter felt as it rumbled through her chest.

"Sesshoumaru-sama has been acting odd, or at least what _I_ perceive as odd, but I think it's because he just remembered the little girl. Rin is her name. Either that, or he just didn't take to me well."

A string of concern coiled around her gut, winding up her chest. She wondered if he was okay and she wondered if this meant he'd leave to find Rin. She reprimanded her wry thoughts. Rin was important to him and the gods only knew what had happened to her. She should want him to search for the girl and she shouldn't care if he left anyway. Her skin flashed hot and prickled, like she had been caught in a lie. She realized then, more than ever, that she was allowing Sesshoumaru to get under her skin. Her thoughts from earlier resurfaced and she knew she had to stop this mess before it was too late to amend.

"I'll walk you back to him. After that, I've got to get back to Sango and Shippou. They're probably getting worried."

"Thanks, Miroku. Make sure to tell them I said hello."

"Not a problem. And remember not to do anything I wouldn't do."

"And what would that be?"

"I don't know, but don't think about it too long."

"When is thinking a problem?"

"About half the time."

"What's the other half?"

"Feeling."

Her heart shuddered when he said that, causing previous thoughts to return to the forefront of her mind. Her life had been lopsided ever since she was pulled down a dry well. With Inuyasha, she felt too much. With Sesshoumaru, she thought too much. She could never find the right balance and so her life felt removed from her own control. To reconcile that feeling of helplessness, she blamed it all on Fate.

The air was thick as she looked over shoulder, the old well blending seamlessly against the gray backdrop. The well had never appeared so small and unnoticeable before.

She had always viewed the well as destiny; the path predetermined by the gods. Therefore, it was significant. Like a potter spinning wet clay, the gods had chosen her, felt her and worked her until they knew every contour of her being, setting her journey irreversibly in motion. They knew she'd see it through—they made sure of it—by pressing down on that clay and hand crafting her path. The finished product had already been decided and a foreseeable outcome had already been shaped, inescapable from its predisposed parameters. She would fall, she would break, she would love, she would lose and she would go home—the clay thinned and the possibilities diminished.

It was no wonder the well looked so inconspicuous now, for the closure of possibility implied the emergence of inevitability. She was staring at the very definition of monotony blurred amongst dull grass and dark skies. The well was like a dead-end and it made her tired, too tired to look for an alternate route. When she thought about her weariness she wished she couldn't feel at all. Why bother when Fate had already preordained her course? At times like this, she felt like she was losing herself to apathy and she didn't want to feel this way anymore. Feeling could indeed be a problem, but indifference wasn't the answer. Fate could not possibly dictate all, could it? Perhaps destiny, like love and life, required a balancing factor.

So maybe, just maybe, she could force her fingers down upon that wet clay, changing its shape.

She could—she just knew she could—because today, the well worked.

**x x x**

_xxx_

He took a walk that day. It was a long walk; he walked the whole day—one way. He contemplated not turning back, but then he'd never prove his worth. And he wanted to prove himself, _badly_. His blood burned just thinking about it.

Though his anger didn't subside, he did pause upon hearing a yelling voice and a pitiful whimper. In the hopes of a distraction, he followed the noises, soon realizing they came from a youkai and a beast of some sort. He saw an unidentified youkai beating a two-headed dragon. The odd-looking beast was frail and bloodied, yet it just stood there, accepting that youkai's brutality as though it was deserved. The unknown youkai then shocked the dragon with his bare hands, labeling himself as an elemental. The dragon fell over, barely conscious.

"When _I_ tell you to do something, you do it successfully! I do not tolerate failure," he snapped, kicking the beast while it was down. Feeling rather irritable and a tad moody, Sesshoumaru felt the need to pick a fight. This youkai disregarded that dragon as a living being, thus he was a perfect candidate for mutilation.

"Perhaps it would have succeeded had it been properly nourished." The beast struggled to lift its head and look at him. It was pathetic.

"Who the hell are you to tell me how to treat _my_ property?"

He didn't even respond; he just attacked. A punch to the gut and a tree cracked. A swipe of his claws and ribs were revealed. Before the unnamed youkai had to time to retaliate, Sesshoumaru dug his fist through the gaping wound and pushed a split rib through the youkai's heart. He died almost instantly, the beast howling lamely as it struggled to stand. Dragons were known to be fierce and loyal. Apparently, this one was no exception. It somehow managed to lift itself off the ground and stagger toward him. It stumbled and fell before it could reach him.

His hands were bloody, like the dragon, and he realized that its scales were actually brown. He had thought they were red. Yet the beast still mourned its master.

"Poor thing," a voice said from behind him, "loved his tormenter till the end." Had he not recognized the heavy accent, he'd have been especially curious as to how a youkai was able to follow him undetected for so long. "What will you do with him?" Maurus asked as he stepped forward and toward the dragon, finally revealing himself.

"Perhaps I should forever end its misery."

"Don't count him out yet," Maurus chided. "Dragons are resilient creatures"

"Why did you follow me?"

"I know what your father said to you and I wanted to make sure you didn't do something stupid. Imagine my surprise to find you saving a helpless creature."

"I didn't save it. It's as good as dead now."

"He's looking at you," Maurus said as he knelt down to pat the beast's head. "I think he understands."

"Understands what?"

"That you're his hero."

"Ridiculous. You would've done it had I not."

"No, I wouldn't have. You know I hate fighting. I don't like risking my life."

He'd never seen Maurus fight—not even spar—and knew he never would. Maurus' powers would remain forever unknown to him. Had he not known Maurus, he would've thought him a coward. Maurus' fear of losing his life was not a fear of death itself, but rather a fear of missing out on future endeavors. Sometimes he wondered if those two sentiments were really the same. They never felt the same when it came to Maurus.

"Come with me," Maurus said suddenly, an uncharacteristic seriousness to his tone. "I'll be leaving this place soon and I want you to come with me."

He was shocked, not only by the offer, but also by the desperate sincerity infused within it. "Why would you ask something like that of me?"

"There is nothing left for you here. Your father has truly abandoned you now and Kazuma will only stunt your growth. I know you wish to travel, but feel you cannot. You don't have to be his legacy. Live for yourself."

"I was under the impression you held my father in a high regard."

"I _do _like your father, but I hate the way he treats you."

"I'm afraid your belated attempt to care has failed to move me," he replied derisively.

"Running away is okay at times, especially at times like these." It was true; he wanted to run away. But, he _always_ ran away, only to come back for more. Maybe he enjoyed debasing himself.

At that moment, the two-headed beast stood once more, its stance unwavering and its gait strong. It strode up to him and stared at him for a moment, a fierce determination in its eyes. He thought the beast would attack him, but it didn't. Beaten into a state of disrepair, the beast was still able to stand proud. It bowed its head to him, a leather strap falling down its neck and over its head—a silent prodding.

He reached out and touched the beast. The blood made its scales slick, but he could feel its strength. A purr rumbled beneath his fingertips and he took the leather reins into his bloodied hands.

"I'm not done with this place yet."

"Besting your father in power will not open his eyes. Such things do not stir his feelings. He has no love for you because he does not know you, yet he's unwilling to learn. Your father doesn't fix his mistakes; he lets them die. His efforts will go into the child to come. You both are too far from each other to reconcile. Come with me."

The beast snorted and bucked its head. Neglected and broken, yet life saturated its being. The two-headed beast had already forgotten that it was disregarded just moments ago. Its master was dead and it was paying its respects by yielding itself to its master's murderer. Its fire was inspiring.

"Whether my father ever feels love for me is meaningless. I want him to be inferior to me. When that happens, I want him to remember that he had no part of it." He tightened his hold on the sticky reins and led the beast back toward the way from which he came.

"You really are just like your uncle," Maurus said as he walked away.

Maybe he was, but at least he wasn't like his father.

_xxx_

That was the day he took his life back into his own hands. He would never again allow Kazuma to push him around or vie for his father's attention and respect. All his efforts went into increasing his own power, even more so than before. Sesshoumaru wanted to show his father that he, too, was unneeded.

After watching the beast rise from the abyss of bereavement, he felt his soul mend and harden, making a future fracture near impossible. He kept the beast ever since and it followed him without hesitation. The beast would remain unnamed until Rin came along. She called it Ah-Un, saying that it was so obedient that if it could talk, then all it would say would be 'yes' and 'yes'. The name stuck and the beast answered to it, making Sesshoumaru think it adored Rin more than him. The notion didn't bother him. If anything, it reminded him of Maurus, of whom he thought whenever the beast's name was mentioned.

Maurus was there when he obtained Ah-Un and in the end Maurus liked him better than his father, even though his loyalty was given to the latter. When Maurus finally left, he only said goodbye to Sesshoumaru. He even parted with a beautiful trinket, saying it was something to remember him by.

"_It's a gem—a diamond. It comes from a place neighboring my homeland. They say it lasts forever, but my mother told me that after tens of thousands of years, it degrades into its baser, uglier elements. It's like you—beautiful, but slowly corroding."_

Maurus was probably right and he didn't mind admitting it. He'd part with his very soul if it'd get his point across to his father. Maurus told him to keep it always, even after it decayed. He recalled telling Maurus that both of them may die before that happened and Maurus laughed. That was the last time he'd hear that laugh that felt like an erupting volcano. He remembered how it shook his chest, like an aftershock.

Rin's laugh had a similar effect on him, but hers was subtler, causing a small warmth to rise from within him. Though Rin was more serious and much more allegiant, she was like Maurus in that she loved the very idea of life. She was like idealism and sunshine to him; she was a pale orange on his canvas

He couldn't remember how she smelt.

He had no idea where she was or if she was even alive. It made him edgy. As soon as he recognized that tense feeling, his shoulders loosened miraculously and he heard the grass bend, taking the wonderment out of his unusually lax disposition. Kagome was coming back; he could smell her. He wondered what it would be like to forget her scent. He supposed he wouldn't know until it happened. His shoulders tensed again at the thought.

Feeling a bit beside himself, he decided to jump up into the tree and watch her from a higher perch. He supposed he needed a distraction in the form of some entertainment. It'd be amusing to watch her frantically search for him. However, that notion was soon to be forgotten. Within a few minutes, she arrived, dressed strangely, like she had the last time she returned from her home. She wore a soft burgundy-colored material that rested low on her hips, its length sparsely reaching the middle of her thighs. It was indecent and reminded him of the green garment she used to wear, but now that she was older and her body had filled out, it seemed even more inappropriate. Her upper body was minimally covered as well. Her shirt was white and left her arms and neck exposed. The neckline swooped to reveal the swell of her breasts, permitting him to trace a concave line from her chin to her bosom. He couldn't help but wonder what had compelled her to wear such a thing.

"Sesshoumaru?" He realized then that he liked the way she said his name as much as he liked her in white. He wondered if this was what the beginning stage of lunacy felt like.

He waited until she was right below his branch and he waited another moment for her to turn around as she scanned the vicinity, then he leapt down behind her, as silent as a specter.

"Why are you wearing that?" he asked lowly, her anxiety washing over him. She tried to turn around then, but he wouldn't let her. He wrapped his arm around the top of her chest, keeping her in place. He wanted to know what the second stage felt like.

She tried to look at him from over her shoulder. "It's hot," she replied, a blush creeping over her cheeks. He wondered why such an obvious statement embarrassed her, but his attention refused to remain fixed on it. Her skin was warm and dewy. He was going to lose his mind. He released her, not wanting to know the depravity of stage three.

She whirled around immediately, playful anger shining in her eyes. "Miroku said you were being weird. You didn't put him in a headlock, did you?" she asked sarcastically. He was beginning to think that she couldn't stay mad at him.

"No, I simply ignored him. When he didn't respect my wishes, I stood, walked around the tree and took a seat. Only then did he leave me alone." A lopsided smile spread across her lips, making him notice their glossy sheen. She looked like she had just come from the shore. Her skin was slightly flushed and damp and her hair was wavy and wild. She looked…nice.

"You can be so funny sometimes," she said brightly, a small fit of giggles shaking her body. His jaw pinched as he tried to fight off a smile. "I'm going to miss you," she said in an off-handed manner. She put her hand to her mouth instantly, a surprised look manifesting on her face.

"Are you going somewhere, Kagome?" It was then that he realized she didn't just look nice, she looked beautiful.

She stuttered, averting her eyes. "It-It…it's not like that. I heard you remembered Rin. You should look for her and I…need…I need to find Inuyasha."

He felt his skin crawl, like a chilled wind blew over him. "You knew about Rin and didn't tell me. Why?" She wasn't being straight with him and he didn't like it at all. It was too unlike her.

"Why tell you about someone important and not be able to help you find her? It's not like you could've sniffed her out then."

She was telling a half-truth and little did she know that he could not, in fact, _sniff_ her out. She needed to learn that she shouldn't keep things from him—there was no need. Until this afternoon, they had had a comfortable relationship. But today, everything changed, just like that. His opposition to corrupting their friendship was rapidly deteriorating. It wouldn't matter anyway, not if she was leaving. His neck stiffened and his shoulders tensed, a burning urge rising to life as he stared at her. Forgetting himself, he grabbed her forearm and pulled her to him, her body colliding into his chest. He lowered his head to the dip of her neck and inhaled strongly. He didn't want to forget the way she smelled—he _wouldn't_ forget. She froze and her heart skipped a beat. His nose brushed across her pulse; it quickened, making his blood move.

"Se-Sesshoumaru?"

A small part of him wanted to cut her down for making him feel and act like this, but most of him wanted to hear her say his name again.

"_Live for yourself."_

He used to think he lived freely, not constrained by what others thought of him. Apparently, that wasn't really the case. Maurus was right, he wanted to travel. He wanted to be free. He slid his hand into her hair, grabbing a handful, and pulling her head to the side. Her breathing picked up as he inhaled some more of her, his inhibitions lost to the wind. He wondered if this was what intoxication felt like.

"Sesshoumaru, please say something," she asked nervously, her body as tense as his.

She had never liked it when he didn't talk. He contemplated silence, but didn't want to push her away. It would all fall apart anyhow.

"Stay with me," he commanded as his body finally relaxed into hers.

Her blood was rushing now and he noted the silkiness of her hair. Everything about her smelt soft. "Sesshoumaru, things have gotten really weird between us and I—"

"I don't mean forever. Stay with me until I remember her scent."

Had someone walked by and saw them, they'd be labeled as lovers. Right now, he didn't care what anyone would think of him, but he knew, somehow, that she wouldn't say no if he remained so close. Despite her body consciousness, she liked close proximity, he could just tell. In a way, he felt like he needed her right now; she soothed his nerves with her scent alone, if nothing else. Her presence had cleared his head and enabled him to do something he should have done a long time ago—self-introspection. She, too, needed him, if only as an excuse to put some temporary space in between her and his brother. He wondered if she needed more.

"I didn't realize you wouldn't be able to find her. Tell me what she is to you and I'll stay—for now." He loosened his hold on her hair a bit and her neck slacked, her head rolling along the side of his. If he wasn't careful he'd breach stage three.

"She is my ward. It is my duty to protect her and care for her. I wish to see her have a good life."

"Why?"

"She is an abandoned child."

"Do you make her feel important?"

"Not particularly."

"Why not?"

"I do not know what it means to love. I cannot show her, nor can I lie to her."

"I think she loves you."

"Perhaps."

"She has changed you—that much I know. How is it that an abandoned child has had such an impact on you?"

"Because I, too, was abandoned."

"How? Because your father neglected you?"

"My father called me a mistake; one in which he vowed never to repeat. That, above all else, is why Inuyasha should die. Because that was how my father dealt with his mistakes," he whispered roughly into her ear, marveling at how easily the little hairs on her neck stood upright. "Isn't that abandonment?" Her breathing was so labored she should have been panting.

"Then you're one beautiful mistake," she replied softly, like a faint mist on the wind. He stood fully then and released her hair, causing her to stagger away from him, barely keeping her balance. He couldn't believe she just said that. Nor could he fathom his own erratic behavior. He finally understood the woes of a drunkard, his wayward acts coming back in full the following morning. The world was spinning and he willed it to stop, but it didn't.

Not when all he could see and breathe was Kagome.

**x x x**

I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and please be safe on New Year's Eve! Remember—don't do anything that Miroku wouldn't do!


	22. Chapter 22

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 22:**

He waited silently behind the cover of a low branch replete with leaves. There were two of them; he could hear their footsteps. He would take the first one that came into his sight. He waited patiently, however, because he knew them to have excellent instincts, as fragile creatures should. It was astonishing that humans were so ill equipped for survival, yet they thrived.

He had never been around humans when he was very young. As time passed, their numbers exploded and it was nearly impossible to avoid them completely, especially since his father was rather fond of them. As such weak creatures, their friendship wasn't valuable to a youkai and the lack of common interests between humans and demons made it undesirable to seek such companionship. Obviously something could be gained in regards to sex as he had learned only to later dismiss it as unworthy. The power gap compelled the two species to despise each other, making a hanyou a social and moral abomination. He had accepted that without question.

However, there were exceptions, like Riku. No one played go like the philosophical monk, who he met indirectly through a miko he failed to kill. Obviously, a trivial common interest had formed a tenuous friendship between them. Nevertheless, he still viewed them as overall stupid and unethical creatures. He remembered asking Kazuma why he hated humans. Kazuma corrected him, saying it was merely dislike. He asked if it was because they were weak and Kazuma said yes, but his reasoning left much to be inferred.

"_Humans are easily loved and easily killed."_

At the time, he thought Kazuma meant that humans would morally corrupt youkai, making them weak of mind, but years later he'd witness a repetitive exception that thoroughly disproved his theory. But Inuyasha was half human. When Rin came along he thought he'd figure it out, but she made him neither weaker nor stronger. He still didn't understand and believed that maintaining distance from her was for the best since Kazuma had a preternatural accuracy in regards to spoken words. He knew that humans could cause weakness as evidenced by his father. Using Inuyasha as evidence to the contrary, however, contributed to the conclusion that it was merely a personal flaw on his father's part. He remembered the time his father rebuked him because of them, making him want to hate them all the more.

"_You have shamed me. All of these people are dead because of you!"_

It was the first campaign in which he had accompanied his father. The battle was waged on a southern island where his father vowed to protect a cluster of human settlements. A menacing taiyoukai was burning a warpath through their land and it seemed logical to dispose of him. He might eventually set his eyes on _their_ homeland.

He fought vigorously, keeping his mind focused and his sword swift. There was so much blood that he couldn't tell his own from his enemies' and by the time victory was achieved, he couldn't move his left shoulder. As one of the soldiers wrapped his arm, he heard others speaking worriedly about the surrounding damage. Many soldiers and bystanders alike had died, but that was the reality of war. He wondered why it bothered them so much. That was when his father approached him, anger burning in his eyes. His father slapped him and cursed his existence. Sesshoumaru's regiment was in charge of protecting the village and it burnt to the ground. He thought eliminating the enemy quicker was the wiser decision; only then would the people be safe. He was angry and thought his father was the foolish one; he should have evacuated the village if the threat was so great. He hated that his father gave the humans preferential treatment. The strong ones deserved it, having earned it, not the weak ones relying on protection.

"_I guess Kazuma never taught you how to save a life."_

It was his first real battle and he decided thereafter that protection was a burden—a foolish one at that. His father should never have made those promises to those people. He should have just dealt with the potential threat and went home. But his father never liked to go home. He remembered feeling like dirt upon returning to the citadel. His father wouldn't look at him, let alone speak to him, but Kazuma, as always, was aware of his plight.

"_Your father is a fool if he is too blind to see his own son standing before him."_

He wanted to cry, but warriors didn't weep. If protection was so important, then why hadn't his father taught him these things? Perhaps it wasn't really important then, despite his father's words to the contrary. It might have been easier to accept as truth had he believed that something—anything—was important to his father. His father was probably just ashamed of himself for not being able to keep his word. He hated humans with a passion and that fact wouldn't change, not until he met Rin. She was different.

A leaf groaned beneath forced weight, pulling him back into reality. He tensed, waiting, ready for it to appear. The moment he saw taupe fur he lunged, snapping the doe's neck instantly, her heart beating only once after the break. It was so easy, like dropping porcelain onto stone. Kagome would die this easily and so would Rin. This was what Kazuma meant.

He heard the grass bend softly and his attention was drawn to the second creature—a fawn. Having seen its mother die, it was terrified and frozen still. It reminded him of the time he followed a path of tears only to find a little boy, despair saturating his scent and guilt consuming his eyes. Izayoi had died from disease, leaving Inuyasha at the mercy of a cruel world. The boy blamed himself because the healers wouldn't see her. She brought an abomination into the world and the gods were enacting the penance. He was alone and he knew it, despite having a brother. Inuyasha had finally realized the truth in all its gravity. He recalled telling him to get over it and prove that a hanyou could do something useful.

"_You hate me because I was born different than you, right?"_

_He nodded, not ashamed to affirm the truth. "Your existence is a blemish upon this earth."_

The boy's guilt then morphed into anger, which prompted Sesshoumaru to leave, wondering all the while if the boy could survive into adulthood. If he held onto that rage, then Sesshoumaru thought he just might. Only then would he be fit to die by Sesshoumaru's hands. He wouldn't see Inuyasha again until he was pinned to a tree in a spell-induced sleep.

He remembered walking through a lovely clearing, a dry well at its center, whispering amongst the quiet of day with an ancient and mystical breath. Uninterested in benign magic, he bypassed the well and found the old tree where Inuyasha slept. He thought about killing the boy, but the notion passed with the moment—Inuyasha would die not knowing who had killed him. He thought the boy was a fool. He loved a human, a miko no less, and this was his reward. Human females were despicable, untrustworthy creatures. They couldn't love a youkai, much less a hanyou, yet he gave her his hard-won heart anyway. He wanted to be the one to do away with Inuyasha, yet a damn priestess foiled his plans.

He hated Inuyasha so much in that moment that he thought he might have loved him. After all, those two sentiments were divided by the thinnest of paper, making them virtually inseparable. Too bad he didn't remind himself of that emotional paradox when it came to his opinion of humans.

The fawn finally remembered itself and ran away. He didn't pity it, knowing that it'd survive if it were fit for life. He slung the doe's carcass over his shoulder and made his way back to the little campsite. Kagome was asleep when he returned. She had already started a fire and so he went ahead and cleaned the deer. He let her be, knowing she hadn't slept well the night before. The chaotic turn in their relationship was weighing heavy on her mind—and his. He wondered what she really thought about it, but knew she wouldn't tell. For a girl that loved to talk, she sure knew how to keep a secret. He despised her and admired her for it.

She turned over then, the small covering falling down her waist. The rain made the atmosphere more humid than usual and so her skin remained flushed. He thought she might be uncomfortable, but thinking of his own comfort, he decided to pull the coverlet back over her body. She squirmed when he approached, her little white top riding up her torso. Her side was practically bare due to the cut of her clothing. The curve of her hip was deep and he liked the way it shaped her stomach.

"_Humans are easily loved and easily killed."_

Even if she lived her life to the end, like some humans did, it would be nothing short of a fleeting moment to him. Like a crashing wave, it would break upon meeting the shore. It would be as though she had never existed, but he would know better.

"_Then you're one beautiful mistake."_

He shied away from water because he knew he could drown and Kagome was luring him into the deep end of the ocean. He had to get rid of her and quick. He wouldn't let the control of his own life escape him like that, not again. Not ever again.

**x x x**

She blinked the sleepiness from her eyes, recognizing the aroma of roasting venison. It smelt fabulous and she felt like she hadn't eaten in a week. She sat up and saw a few skewers of meat hanging over the fire. In her confusion and hurry, she had forgotten to restock her food supply. Sesshoumaru offered to hunt, glossing over his kindness by saying his health was deteriorating from her 'human' food. Even if that was true, she hadn't expected him to prepare her meal. She blushed, thanking the humidity for concealing her embarrassment.

"It should be done shortly." She then saw Sesshoumaru, sitting in his usual spot, with an open book in his lap.

"What are you reading about?"

"Art."

"Oh? Who's your favorite so far?" The thought of Sesshoumaru appreciating art tickled her. At the same time, nothing about him should surprise her anymore. She blushed again, remembering his nose at her throat. She didn't like the way it made her belly feel.

"Kiyokata Kaburagi," he said plainly.

She forgot her nervousness upon hearing his answer. Kiyokata Kaburagi was famous for painting beautiful women. That fact intrigued her. "Why do you like him best?"

"He has a good eye. I suppose I'm a bit traditional."

She smiled and the air felt thinner. She supposed things were slowly regaining their normalcy. Earlier today, they talked and Sesshoumaru told her about a demon named Maurus and a monk named Riku. Though he didn't say it, she knew that at one time they were friends of his. It wasn't an easy conversation though. After what she said last night, compelling him to speak took a lot of effort, which primarily consisted of incessantly reminding him of their bargain. She knew his sense of honor wouldn't allow him to renege and he justified his acquiescence to her demands as a harmless way to silence her. He could be such a jerk and that jerk had tried to ignore her by reading one of _her_ books and she didn't want to be ignored—not today, especially _not_ today. She wanted to forget that yesterday ever happened.

"You know, when I was little I wanted to be an artist. A painter in particular," she said conversationally, trying to get those doomed words out of head. She was so embarrassed just thinking about what she had said. Her mouth really had a mind of its own. He cleared his throat and she swore she could feel his breath teasing her neck. She was driving herself insane. At this rate, normalcy was impossible.

"Why didn't you?" he asked as he turned a page.

"I think I had the eye for it, but not the hand." She crawled to the fire and poked a plump cube of meat to see if it was done.

"You study the mind so now you aspire to be a _psychologist_, correct? Why is that?" he inquired, still scanning the colorful pages.

"I want to help people and I can't be a doctor. I don't have the stomach for it," she replied as she took a skewer. "As I've grown, I've come to realize that the most difficult problems people have are mental ones. Those are also the most difficult to cope with and many times a cure isn't foreseeable or even obtainable. I want to help them reach that cure on their own, if it's possible."

"You want to feel useful then," he replied as she took a bite.

She stared at him as she chewed. "Yeah, I guess so." She sounded pathetic, and felt it too. She reminded herself that she shouldn't care what he thought of her.

"It seems you've been quite useful to Inuyasha, but I suppose that's hard for you to see."

She stopped chewing. "What do you mean?"

He looked at her then and she rubbed her neck. "He fights like a full-blooded demon when you're with him. He doesn't question his worth anymore. I think that equates to usefulness, at least as far as he is concerned."

That almost sounded like an insult, but she decided to ignore that possibility. "Maybe," she agreed reluctantly. It didn't seem like enough. She wondered if anything would ever be enough. She figured that was the definition of satisfaction and thus it was no wonder she couldn't see it.

"There was another miko before you. Is that why you question your worth in regards to him?"

"You know about that? I never told you Kikyou was a miko."

"My brother was bound to a tree. Do you think I wouldn't find out why?"

He was beginning to revert back to full-jerk mode. She didn't feel very hungry anymore. "I don't want to talk about it. I've already closed that book."

"Very well," he said, his eyes returning to the book in his lap. "Inuyasha is very similar to our father. Don't let his inadequacies weigh you down."

She didn't know if that was meant to be a reassurance or a warning. "Sesshoumaru, I," she spoke without thinking and she wasn't even sure what she wanted to say to him. She just felt like she needed to tell him something. Maybe she wanted to thank him for saying that, but that'd be a waste of words. He never wanted gratitude. She wondered if he understood the word.

"In the morning, we leave to find Inuyasha. Certainly he will remember Rin's scent. I suggest you return home to dispose of some of your things. You carry too much and I do not wish to be slowed. You also need to obtain more foodstuffs. I will not need to hunt for some time and I am not your caretaker."

She held her breath, a sudden chill spreading through her body. His voice was so cold and his tone so indifferent that it seemed as though he was pushing her away, like she was unneeded, unwanted. She felt rigid, unable to move, knowing that she couldn't disagree with that sentiment.

"How would you know where to start looking for him?" She didn't like the way her voice sounded, like she was pleading for the opposition's case.

"Several days ago, you said he was searching for my 'friends' and if he was to do that, then I have a good idea as to where he would look first."

"Why the sudden rush?" She couldn't believe she was still talking. She swallowed, wondering why she should even care. She was the one that mentioned leaving. She was the one that said she needed to find Inuyasha.

"This way you'll be reunited with my brother in a timelier manner and I will be able to obtain information on my ward's whereabouts more quickly."

It made sense; Sesshoumaru _always _made sense. She just couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to get rid of her, but she needed to remember that this was what she wanted—to distance herself from him before it all ran too deep. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had always been useful to Inuyasha in some way. But one thing remained evident; she had never once been useful to Sesshoumaru.

**x x x**

The next morning, after a rather rude awakening from Sesshoumaru, she went home to do as he had instructed—trim the fat from her backpack and stock up on the important stuff. She needed to remember her bow and arrows as well. Otherwise, she'd be forced to listen to a lecture and she didn't want to hear Sesshoumaru's version of scolding. He'd probably 'actively' teach her lesson, like he had with the bird carcass that day. It also didn't help that she didn't know what to think of him right now. Two days ago, he turned really freakish and now he was acting super nonchalant, like he did when he first returned to the world of consciousness, and it was really aggravating. At the same time, maybe this was a good thing. Reason number one: he hadn't worn a shirt in the last thirty-six hours. She found herself imagining running her hands up his back and that deviant thought was killing her. He was affecting her brain in all the wrong ways and his rediscovered crappy attitude might just be the cure.

For a moment, she wondered if he treated Rin like this—apathetically and abruptly. He had said the girl was abandoned, so maybe she was used to being treated like dirt and Sesshoumaru's behavior toward her was probably a step above that. Rin's future looked like a bleak prospect. Then again, wasn't hers? She had no right to pass judgement; she was just a little ticked.

She needed to get this done in a hurry, so hopefully she wouldn't run into any family members, but that seemed unlikely. The sooner she got back to Sesshoumaru, the sooner they'd find Inuyasha and the sooner she'd be rid of him. Her stomach flipped at the thought. When that happened, there'd be no more substantive conversations, no more stargazing and light-hearted jests. All of her friends were unique in their own right and Sesshoumaru was no exception. She'd miss his blatant honesty and stark realism. She'd miss his intense stares and questioning looks. She'd especially miss that roll of his jaw and the sound of his voice. She'd even miss the way he worded things, like everything was important and he was an expert on everything. His confidence was contagious and she wondered if she'd retain just a piece of it when he was gone.

She was beginning to think that he realized he was treating her like a confidant and felt ashamed of it, compelling him to push her away. Last night—hell, a few minutes ago—she was more than willing to be pushed. But the more she thought about it and the more the reality of it sunk in, the more she discovered how wrong it felt. She wondered what this meant, hoping it didn't mean what she thought it did. No, it couldn't. She thought of Miroku in a similar light and he was just a dear friend. She loved all of her friends, which meant—in a completely innocent and platonic way, of course—that she also loved Sesshoumaru.

Suddenly, she thought of the way his shoulders tensed and wished she could knead them, just once, so that he would know how it felt to be handled with care. She remembered how warm and cold he was, the contradiction making her blood rush. Somehow, she knew he could be passionate—he just _had_ to be—or else so many conflicting sentiments could not possibly coexist within him.

"_Stay with me."_

His voice rolled over her, like a silk coverlet. She remembered the way she felt when he wrapped his arm around her chest. Her skin became hot, making her nervous. His proximity always made her nervous. Her heart fluttered upon remembering how he pulled her to him suddenly, his face at her throat and his hand in her hair. She grew hotter then and one little thought echoed in the back of her mind at that moment, one in which she tried to convince herself she hadn't heard—let alone thought—but even the gods knew she wasn't blessed with the power of persuasion. She wanted him to kiss her there, at the pulse of her neck. She wanted to feel alive and knew he could remind her. She knew one thing—Sesshoumaru held a power over her and she was losing to it.

She stopped then, her blood flashing hot. She was supposed to have banished these thoughts from her mind. She shouldn't be encouraging them, let alone acknowledging them! He was a friend, like Miroku…but she didn't want to slide her fingers up Miroku's back. She didn't entertain thoughts of Miroku kissing her neck. Did this mean…? No, it was simply sexual frustration and he just happened to be paying attention to her. She already knew this. Then why did she feel so uncertain?

"Kagome!"

Pulled from her inner musings, she saw her little brother running toward her with a lantern and incense in his hands. She immediately noticed that he was wearing a pair of blue hakamas.

"Souta," she said with a giggle. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Oh, this? Gramps got some weird idea in his head because of those foundation people. He says we got to hold some wacko ceremony to thank the God of…well, the God of something for it."

"Souta, this is no time to be neglecting your duties!" She looked up and saw her grandfather approaching, he, too, dressed in the traditional garbs of a priest. She pitied Souta, but at the same time she sort of wished she could be there to see this crazy ceremony. She needed a reality check, even if it involved her grandpa's delirium.

"Hi, grandpa!"

"Ah, Kagome!" he greeted brightly. "Have you come to help with the ritual?"

"Um, no, I can't. Sorry, grandpa."

"Don't worry about it. As a high priestess you have your own duties to attend to."

She blanched at the thought of being considered a _high_ priestess. "What's this ritual all about anyway?"

"Oh, no," Souta said wearily. It made her want to laugh.

"The Great and Powerful God who protects the Higurashi name has bestowed a generous gift upon us and so we must pay our respects to him at sundown as has been preordained!"

Her eye twitched. He sounded like he belonged in a straight jacket. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you remember the story? I know I told it to you when you were but a little girl. It was nearly four and half centuries ago that a great fire engulfed…"

"Souta, did he take his medication today?" she asked quietly, her grandfather still droning on in the background.

"He swooped down from the sky and the flames extinguished…"

"I don't know, but it gets worse," Souta bemoaned.

"And He said that our family would live long and thrive on this land as long as…"

"How could it get any worse?" she questioned.

"On that fateful day our clan adopted the name of His giving and looked to Him for protection and…"

"He thinks the guy that stopped by the other day isn't human," Souta whispered.

"His mark has been lost, but His spirit remains and through His premonitions…"

"_What_?" she nearly shouted.

"_Kagome_," her grandfather scolded gently. "It's rude to interrupt and even ruder to disregard such a kind and giving God."

"You think the man from the foundation isn't human?"

"He looked pretty human to me," Souta added nonchalantly.

"I _said_ he was only half-human," her grandfather corrected, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What's his other half?" Kagome asked somewhat fearfully. At times like this, she worried for her grandpa's mental health.

"Oh, boy," Souta said.

"He's a demigod!"

It was no wonder she had crazy thoughts; she came from an insane family! "Grandpa, that's ridiculous!"

"Don't sass me, young lady! Had you seen him, you'd understand. He had the blackest of hair…"

"More like a mahogany color," Souta chimed in.

"And the greenest of eyes!"

"I think olive is more like it," Souta interjected.

"His appearance was flawless, _otherworldly_!"

"More like pale and scary," Souta interposed.

"He was young, yet he exuded such power!" Her grandfather _sensed_ his _power_? It was no wonder he was being so freakish about it; his sense for the mystical was never any good.

"So…you think he's the half-human son of this God that protects the Higurashi name?" she asked skeptically.

"Exactly!"

"Yeah," she said. "You guys have fun with that."

Leaving those two behind, she walked inside and went directly to the kitchen where her mother was washing dishes. "Hi, honey! I didn't expect you today!"

"I forgot to restock my food. Did grandpa take his meds?"

Her mother laughed. "Don't mind him. He's just excited. I think it's nice when he gets so lively. Are you staying for lunch?"

"No, I can't," she replied as she pulled the excess clothes from her pack.

"That's too bad. While you're here, could you at least share your thoughts?" her mother asked as she scrubbed some plates, creating a rhythmic rustle of water.

She continued unpacking, not at all fazed. Her mother probably saw that confusion all along. "I have mixed feelings…about a boy." The water suddenly stopped swishing.

"Oh?" She knew what her mother was thinking. '_Why again_?'

"I'm not necessarily talking about _romantic_ _feelings_, just feelings in general. He's someone I shouldn't have feelings for and Inuyasha is hardly in the past. Does that make me a bad person?" It was strange how weird that statement sounded, like she was contradicting herself.

"Kagome, it's your life to live. Just as I refuse to interfere with your decisions, so will Inuyasha. He cares for you and wants you to be happy, so I'd imagine that he'd accept any decision you make, even if it's hard for him. Hearts move on, Kagome. So no, it _does not_ make you a bad person."

That was all she needed to hear. "Mama, I'm not going to stay there. I think part of me was afraid that Inuyasha would be irreplaceable, but now I think I understand that I _can_ love again." She paled at her own words, but they were soon forgotten as a dish clattered against the metal sink. Before she knew what had happened, her mother's arms were around her, soapy hands wetting her back.

"_Thank you_," her mother whispered desperately, her tears sliding into Kagome's hair. She thought she would cry too, but she didn't. It felt too uplifting to bring her mother good news. "Now hurry up and get out of here," her mother said as she pulled away, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her wrist. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll return."

"Okay, mama."

She knew a part of her would always want to remain in the Feudal Era, but when the choice was between friends she had known for four years and a mother she had loved all her life, she'd chose her mother. She needed a life where she wouldn't have such a difficult decision to make. Her friends would understand, they always did, even Inuyasha.

Upon climbing out of the well, she made a resolution. This was her life to live and she'd live it as fully as she could. It was obvious that she cared for Sesshoumaru and she would continue to care for him no matter how difficult he, or anyone else, made it because that was how _she_ wanted things to be. She would ignore his callousness and treat him kindly, like a friend, because she wanted to retain good memories of him. He would leave soon and that was fine as long as their camaraderie remained intact. That much was important to her.

With a lighter backpack, she was out of the well in no time. As she walked back toward her recent campsite, she smiled at the thought of being a tiny bit more independent. It was amazing how that notion made her less nervous about meeting up with Sesshoumaru. This was the beginning of pressing her will down onto that spinning clay.

A frightening sensation jolted through her veins, leaving an icy remnant pulsing in its wake, compelling her to pause. She knew this feeling, having felt it countless times before. A demon was nearby and possessed jewel shards—and they were tainted. She gulped, instinctively turning her attention to a patch of trees to her right. The youkai was lurking in the shadows, watching her, waiting, like he was making certain of something.

He must have suspected she had jewel shards, which wasn't uncommon for youkai who already possessed some. She slowly reached around her back, feeling for her bow. She felt nothing but fabric. She forgot her bow _again_! Sesshoumaru would be so pissed at her!

She discreetly looked over her shoulder and realized the well was several meters behind her, leaving her with few choices. There was no way to outrun a youkai of this caliber, especially one with jewel shards. Her only hope was to walk away as though she didn't notice anything. Maybe he'd think she didn't have any shards then, but maybe her behavior had already been labeled as odd and telling. Maybe he knew regardless of her actions. She couldn't take that chance, which left her with one remaining option. After silently pleading for Inuyasha's forgiveness, she screamed Sesshoumaru's name.

"**_SESSHOUMARU_**!"

It was amazing how fast that youkai darted from the shadows, like he was a part of them, born from light. He hit her hard in the abdomen and she literally went flying. There was no Inuyasha to bear the impact and no Kirara to catch her mid-air. Even Sesshoumaru wouldn't make it in time to break her fall. She was screwed, but she prayed that the damage wouldn't be too severe. As she hit the tree with a sickening thud, she wished that the last times she spoke with Sesshoumaru hadn't ended the way they had. She hoped he thought well of her.

She didn't feel any pain as blackness crept into the corners of her eyes. She knew something was wrong with that, but at least she could feel a warm dampness on her neck, if only barely. Feeling something was good, right? She tried to inhale fully, thinking that more oxygen could clear the dark clouds from her sight. She ended up coughing and liquid sputtered from her mouth. At that moment, she wondered if she'd get the chance to see Sesshoumaru again. There was something she felt the need to tell him, but she couldn't remember what it was right now. Gods, she was going to miss him.

Maybe Sesshoumaru wouldn't care that she was hurt or maybe he'd be angry that she forgot her weapon. As she lost consciousness, she hoped that he'd feel anger. If he was mad, then that meant he cared.

**x x x**

This story is nearing the end! I'll inform you guys of the exact number of remaining chapters as soon as possible. It'll most likely be 25 or 26 chapters in total. As always, thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** This chapter scares the hell out of me. I don't think I write good fluff and so I fear the 'cheese' factor. My feelings will not be hurt, but please tell me what you think. Is it perfectly light and delicious, like the sweetly whipped mascarpone cheese in tiramisu? Is a little strong, but nonetheless tasty, like a smooth, aged gorgonzola? Or is so damn cheesy that there aren't enough crackers in the world to swallow that crap down? I appreciate honesty. Please remember that.

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 23:**

He had felt a jyaki on and off all morning. He thought that maybe he was remembering something, but after taking into account his recent behavior, he assumed his mind was playing tricks on him. After all, it was obvious he wasn't at the top of his game. When he heard a female screaming for him he thought he was definitely succumbing to delirium. That was until he realized there was no honorific attached to it.

Now, he knew for a fact that he wasn't just hearing things. He stood, frozen, in a memorable clearing, a dry well visible from the corner of his eye. He saw a youkai dressed in black straddling Kagome and leaning over her body. She wasn't moving. The picture blurred and he blinked, now seeing a budding woman dressed in green and white poised over the body of a red-clad hanyou. She screamed something at him and he blinked again.

"These shards are mine! Find your own!"

The youkai was looking at him now. His hair was colored a forest green and his eyes were yellow and round with the slits of a reptile. His skin was shingled and tawny, appearing plagued by disease. Sesshoumaru felt as immovable as a boulder and he questioned himself, wondering why he wasn't attacking yet.

It was because her heart wasn't beating. He could smell her blood; there was a lot of it. He dropped his swords.

Kagome always spoke carelessly. He knew why—because she _could_. She was free, yet didn't realize it. He wanted to tell her that. She was a human girl that openly loved a hanyou. He remembered seeing it, all the while thinking his eyes were deceiving him. Inuyasha was lost as he slaughtered those soldiers that day, but she forgave his brutality and put her life in between two brothers who always wagered death. She was unwilling to live in a world without Inuyasha. The void would be too great and she couldn't bear the emptiness. He understood now.

_"Don't come any nearer!"_

He didn't think humans could love youkai, and hanyou were more despicable than youkai. But he had seen it with his own eyes. It was surreal and amazing—it was unforgivable.

That was bravery. That was loyalty. That was _love_.

It would seem that humans loved more deeply than youkai, or maybe more desperately. It made sense now. Their lives were short, like a spring shower. Their lack of time compelled them to place a high value on certain things, emotions in particular, because they wanted to feel as much as they could before they died. They wanted to water the next generation of flowers, leaving a piece of themselves to live on. He realized then that it was a beautiful thought. And Kagome died before she could do that.

He became irritated, knowing she didn't arm herself like he told her. He became angry, knowing he couldn't scold her for it. He became infuriated, knowing she died so dishonorably. It became blinding when he thought about her beautiful scent—smelling old yet new—would be forever lost, as though it had never existed. But he knew it had and he didn't want to live with that burden.

His eyes bled, causing the youkai to react and disappear. He didn't understand how that could happen; he'd never seen a youkai so fast. He heard a whizzing sound and knew something was coming for him—a projectile. He couldn't see it. His hand shot up and he listened intently, hoping to block it unscathed. It finally reached him and he hissed, a short, sharp thud tacking it to bark. He only succeeded in keeping it from his face.

Unfortunately, there had been a tree right behind him. He could see the projectile now, protruding from the center of his palm. It was organic and looked like a scale shaped as a dagger. It was the same color as that youkai's skin and it was as hard as steel, pinning his hand to the tree. Things weren't looking good, not when he didn't have a second hand to pull it out.

"Looks like you have a problem," the youkai said, his voice seeming to echo from all directions. "It's against my creed to kill fellow youkai, but I'll make an exception for you since you seem to want _my _jewel shards so bad."

He had forgotten about her quest. When he was younger, he sensed the jewel, but it was also whole. It would seem that now, as a powerful adult, he had no such ability. He didn't need them, nor did he want them. He didn't take short cuts. His anger heightened again upon remembering his desire to teach Kagome a lesson. She should never be without a weapon while carrying such a dangerous object. His eyes shifted to Kagome's body, his anger deep, but his focus shallow. He wanted to go and yell at her for putting him in this situation.

"_Snap out of it, boy."_

He clenched his jaw and pulled with all his might. His hand slid unwillingly over the scaly dagger, creating a jagged and gaping hole in his palm. It hurt like hell, but he had no other alternative. Blood poured onto the ground as he freed himself. Just as he moved, an abundance of those daggers embedded themselves into the tree at varying degrees. The timing was just right.

"Lucky," the youkai mocked.

The youkai's aura disappeared again and he picked up Toukijin. He unsheathed it immediately, blood oozing over the hilt, making it slippery. It would be difficult to wield the sword under such conditions, but at least he could use it to block those daggers. However, that would put him on an indeterminate defensive. He needed to figure out his enemy's movements.

"_You cannot defeat an enemy you cannot touch." _

More daggers came, all of which he was unable to see until they hit his blade, or his skin for that matter. Even his defense was weak against this opponent. Scenting the youkai was impossible with the overwhelming smell of blood hovering in the air. He had to figure out something. At the very least, Kagome deserved to be avenged.

"_You must be faster than your opponent."_

This youkai was faster than he and had the advantage of invisibility—of sight_ and_ smell. A metal clang echoed in his ears; another dagger evaded.

"_You must be flexible."_

He needed to adapt to the situation. He needed to find a way to be faster—to be one step ahead. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, taking a moment to contemplate his next play. He could hear the wind whispering softly over the grass. He could hear the faint hum of magic and the silence of a strong heart. That silence consumed him, like a flickering candle amongst darkness.

The air was parting, behind him, and to the right. Metal collided as he swept Toukijin around and across his body. He kept his eyes closed. To the left, the air shifted—he swung again. He heard it in front of him this time. He was on a complete defensive, but sooner or later the youkai would have to near him to strike.

It happened quicker than he expected; he thought the youkai would try to wear him down first. Unwisely, the youkai emerged right behind him, like he had just materialized from thin air. He could sense him, just barely. He rounded on the youkai and the air shuddered before blots of black and green appeared before him. It was a type of camouflage. The youkai had Toukijin's blade in his grip, his hard scales holding it off, but not completely. Drops of blood slid down the sword's shaft, merging into a thin line. The youkai was still partly invisible.

"_You must be stronger."_

He pushed Toukijin into his nemesis, releasing it in the process. No real damage was inflicted, but Sesshoumaru used the element of surprise to his advantage and doused the vermin with poison. The hardened scales protected the youkai, but he was completely visible now. But most importantly, the acid dominated the scent of blood.

"_Clever boy."_

The youkai was easy prey now. He ran in circles for a while, knowing Sesshoumaru was on his tail, but the acid slowly ate away at his scaly armor, devouring it like boiling water to salt. The youkai tried to flee and in his haste he ran back into the clearing, stumbling over Tensaiga in the process. He didn't even have time to stand before Sesshoumaru was there, hovering over him; metal shimmering in the sunlight.

"I guess these shards are yours now," the unnamed youkai said mournfully, the hiss of acid buzzing around them. He seemed more distraught over losing his shards than losing his life.

"I have no need for them."

The youkai looked stunned. "But they will make you invincible!"

"I value _true_ strength and honor. Those shards will give me neither."

"Then why?"

"Vengeance."

"For a _human_?"

He plunged Toukijin into the youkai's chest, twisting the blade for good measure. What a miserable existence he must have lived, Sesshoumaru thought as he removed his bloodied sword. Remembering a dragon that refused to die, he cut the youkai into pieces, ripping apart the flesh until he found every last shard in the corpse. When he discovered the fifth shard, the youkai's body disintegrated and Sesshoumaru knew there were no more.

A small glimmer of light caught his eye and he noticed Tensaiga resting at the foot of the skeleton. He picked it up, his attention immediately drawn to a tree, its shade engulfing a dead girl. He swallowed as he walked to her, thinking what an unbefitting death she had endured.

"_Well…I don't care what people think of me, if that's what you mean."_

He supposed she wouldn't care how she died, as long as it wasn't painful. It was quick, he could tell.

"_I want to help people..."_

She might not care, but he did. She should have died protecting something precious.

"_I promised to stand by his side."_

Like a loved one. Like his brother.

"_It's just…just that again I had to give up something that I wanted."_

She always seemed cheerful, but he wondered if she was really satisfied with her life. He wondered if she was like Riku, masking her sorrow with a smile.

"_You find out where I'm from and suddenly you want to talk to me."_

He wondered if people took what she gave them. She always offered herself, without hesitation, or regret.

"_Thank you."_

"_For what?"_

"_For trusting me enough to share with me."_

She really loved to talk. And listen.

"_You're a whore-monger."_

"_You are such a jerk!"_

She was brave; brave enough to insult him.

"_I'm sorry, Sesshoumaru."_

Brave enough to apologize.

"_I see you as extraordinary."_

"_Then you're one beautiful mistake."_

And brave enough to speak with her heart.

"_You can be so funny sometimes. I'm going to miss you."_

She was candid and often careless with her tongue. It was easy to learn what she thought and it was never boring.

"_Enlightenment is knowledge of what is true. Truth leads to good and good leads to happiness."_

Riku had said that on their first meeting. Sesshoumaru thought it was ridiculous. It would seem that even after his death, Riku was able to change minds. Kagome had all the right tools to find her happiness. She was just too young to know how to use them.

"_Tell me life is beautiful."_

He stopped at her feet, blood pooled around her head and torso. She died from blood loss; head wounds bled profusely.

"I cannot tell you that," he replied automatically, staring at her body as though his eyes were deceiving him.

_"Sesshoumaru, I…"_

He liked it when she said his name. He figured it had something to do with her voice—it always sounded carefree. He longed for freedom. He might see the beauty of life then.

"_She tells you how to love life."_

Perhaps, but she was dead now, even though she looked to be only sleeping.

"_When I can't sleep I look at the stars."_

He loved the stars. It started when he was young, after Kazuma began his training. Daybreak was insufferable and the hours between it and sundown were long and tiring. Nightfall was his reprieve, his time to relax. The stars accompanied him into the twilight hours, watching him as he moved with his sword to his own inner tune. They would leave with the sunrise.

"_You can't see the stars."_

As though five hundred years had already passed, the stars disappeared, their beautiful silvery color lost to him. Silver was a dazzling and cool color—exciting and relaxing all the same. It was fitting of Kagome and it overwhelmed his canvas, bringing the gray backdrop to life with sparkling beauty.

He lost it.

She was dead.

Once, he had wanted this. He had pushed it to the wayside, like he had with Inuyasha, knowing that such pursuits would concede of sense of importance. Inuyasha wasn't important and neither was she.

And she was dead.

"_Inaction will cost you the stars."_

Toukijin slipped from his arm and fell to the ground, leaving Tensaiga dangling between his fingers. He tightened his grip and immediately unsheathed it, knowing he couldn't wield it as he pleased, but he could at least try. He prayed to the gods for leniency; this was out of his hands. Or at least he thought. The notion to attempt a resurrection hadn't even crossed his mind until he thought about his world dimming back to that dull gray. He wanted to see its beauty last, just a little longer, if he could. He waited for the pulse. Nothing happened. He felt the icy jab of disappointment, but he fought it. He didn't feel disappointment. Not anymore.

"_I guess Kazuma never taught you how to save a life."_

He could hear his father laughing at him as porcelain shattered.

"_You like things that are dark, don't you?"_

"_Ever wonder why you always seem to choose the dark-headed ones?"_

It was true. Was this where enlightenment made its debut?

"_But it was a simple curiosity, nothing more."_

"_It is impossible to love someone you do not know, Sesshoumaru."_

Kagome was a curiosity and he knew her, but humans and demons didn't love each other. At times they wanted each other, but there was no love. He was ready to be rid of her.

"_You bear the mark of my family upon your brow. You may hide it if you like, but it will always be there."_

_"If I told you that I loved you, Sesshoumaru, would you send me away as well?"_

There was no love, even though he could see her looking at him defiantly, tears teeming as she shielded his brother. Hanyou were below youkai, yet she could love them. He wondered if that meant she could love a demon too.

But there was no love…

"_Nothing will turn a man faster than a woman."_

It had nothing to do with that. She didn't belong here, in this time. Therefore, she should not be allowed to die here.

"_Humans are easily loved and easily killed."_

Eternity—it prevented any love between the two. He just wanted…

"_Live for yourself."_

He wanted to help her.

"_Why are you helping me?"_

"_Because I can."_

She would've done the same for him, if she could. If he couldn't save one stupid mortal's life, then what was he worth? What was the point of having this damn sword? He gripped the hilt harder, the pressure forcing more blood from his wounded hand. It ran down the blade, swiftly, like time was elapsing.

In his mind, he saw her smile. He saw her stifling her laughter with words. She was bright in thought and spirit, unlike any woman he had ever known. He watched as she listened intently, like he knew all the world's secrets. She licked her lips and looked away, a blush staining her cheeks. She was angry now; it was righteous and beautiful, like her face. In his mind, she became worried now, like a compassionate healer, mending the mind and body. He remembered eating sweet rice balls and treading through water as fast as he could. She was courteous and thoughtful—a welcomed distraction. She asked a lot of questions and she always made remarks after his responses, like a seasoned adviser. He didn't know if these traits were the products of her upbringing or simply her nature, but he realized now that that question was meaningless. She understood because she wanted to understand. She helped because she wanted to help.

She cared because she _wanted_ to care.

"_I see you as extraordinary."_

No, she was far more extraordinary than he. He wished he could tell her that, but most of all, he wished she'd open her eyes so that he could yell at her. He wanted to scold her for being careless when came to herself and her safety. He wanted to shake her and scream in her face that she was a fool for letting herself waste away over his brother and for spreading herself too thin with duty. He wanted to slap her for thinking herself useless. He wanted this _goddamn_ sword to work!

"_Inaction will cost you the stars."_

Perhaps, but that was a long ways away. She had a dream to fulfill. She wanted to help people, in the future. And they'd miss out, not knowing what they'd lost. But he would know.

He would know.

"_I'm going to miss you."_

His hand throbbed with pain as he gripped his sword, but he didn't care. He wanted to revive her because _he_ wanted her to live.

"I'm not done with this place yet," he said sternly, pressing further, blood running.

A pulse—he held his breath tight. Another pulse—he held on tighter, unable to breathe at all. The pallbearers appeared, proving that somewhere someone gave his struggle a second thought. His chest tensed as he took a small breath, afraid that taking too much might scare the imps away. His heart raced as he sliced through the unsuspecting demons, stealing their right with more aggression than necessary. His blood slung with the swipe, dripping onto Kagome's face.

Nothing happened, but he knew it would. So he waited. He could wait. Forever if need be.

_Thump._

He could hear his father laughing at him, but this time it didn't bother him as he watched the porcelain mend.

_Thump-thump._

He imagined Kazuma looking at him with that burning stare, like he once again ignored the wisdom of a sage.

_Thump-thump, thump-thump._

He felt Riku smile and Maurus patting him on the back as though he had just been demoted to their rank of absurdity.

_Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump…_

He could see Inuyasha gaping at him with a slackened jaw, like the earth was no more.

_Thump…_

He wondered if he could ever stop worrying about the world's perceptions.

Light filtered through the robust canopy, like the stars at night, to shine upon Kagome. He saw her chest expand as she finally took a breath. Her eyes were fluttering open; he sheathed Tensaiga. Upon seeing her pretty eyes and knowing her scent had returned his shoulders relaxed and he breathed fully, an unwelcome realization accompanying his relief. He had just crossed that paper-thin line that had always been unidentifiable to him. The light shone upon him then and he pretended it was darkness engulfing him. He wanted to retrace his steps so that he could return without anyone knowing he'd been there.

He could live with quiet gratitude, but he couldn't live on the other side of that line.

**x x x**

"Open your hand."

She blinked as a sliver of sunlight fell across her eyes and blurred his image black. She didn't have to see him; his voice was enough to guide her. She opened her palm to him and immediately registered warm objects resting within her hand, their edges sharp and fractured. She counted them with her thumb.

"He had three shards?" Her eyes finally adjusted and she saw him standing over her. He was extremely tall, but she already knew that. His eyes were burning and his face was blood-splattered. She was going to ask what had happened, but his jaw rolled and she waited, holding her breath.

"Can you walk?"

She sat up, amazed by how _normal_ she felt. She had had a concussion or two in her time, and a nasty headache and double vision _always_ succeeded head trauma, but neither applied in this case.

"Follow me."

She gulped as she picked up her backpack, not liking his tone of voice, but she ignored it and stood. She didn't have any problems standing, nor did she feel dizzy or nauseated. Strange, but maybe she didn't hit her head as hard as she first thought.

She followed Sesshoumaru through the forest, noticing, with much chagrin, that he had several wounds on his body. The cuts were small in diameter, but appeared deep, like he had been stabbed. He didn't seem distraught over them, so she figured they'd heal quickly, but they looked awfully painful. She felt terrible, though, because he got hurt due to her chronic forgetfulness. She continued to stare at him, her eyes entranced by the sway of his shoulder blades. She looked to ground, watching the grass waver as he moved past. She really was useless.

He stopped and she heard the gurgle of water, immediately recognizing the stream by their campsite.

"Drop your pack."

"Why?"

His eyes turned on her then and the teetering anger was so plainly evident that her shoulder slumped, her backpack falling to the ground of its own accord. However, her fear died instantly as he glared at her. He had yet to offer her an explanation as to what had happened. If he was going to be angry, then he should just yell at her and get it over with. She hated his silence almost as much as she hated his condescending attitude and broad shoulders. She tried to look away then, but his eyes held her in place. She wanted to despise him for the thoughts he bred, making her anger flare to life with the recognition of self-depravation.

"Look," she began, indignation loosening her tongue, "I'm sorry I troubled you, but you didn't _have_ to come to my rescue. It's not like the jewel shards are _your_ problem."

"I despise that jewel." His voice was cold, but not freezing.

"If your problem's with me, then just say it! I can't stand this! It's like I'm always trying to guess what you're doing or what you're thinking. It's tiring trying to figure you out!" She wanted him to yell at her. She wanted to hear him say it. That the jewel shards had nothing to do with it; that he saved her because he wanted to save her. He approached her, his body mere inches from hers. She hated how easy it was for him. He could do whatever he wanted.

"You are lax in your duty." They were close, but not touching.

"Why should you care? 'Cause you hate the Shikon no Tama?"

"I told you once before that I am not your caretaker, yet you made me behave as such." He was burning now, but not aflame.

"Like I said, you didn't _have_ to do anything! You could've let him kill me for all I care!"

He didn't say anything; he just pushed her into the stream. She hit the bottom, a rock cutting into her hand. She stood instantly, like she had never fallen. His audacity and his demeanor were infuriating and just as she was about to curse his existence she noticed his hand. It was bloody with a gaping hole at its center. Once, he had given Inuyasha a similar wound to the gut. She forgot her curses.

He walked into the stream, as he was, and she just stood there, waiting for him to come.

"I told you, more than once, to procure a weapon," he said lowly, dangerously. She awaited his fury with open arms. "I do not like to repeat myself. Yet, you make me." She clenched her fist and her wound stung. She wanted her hand to bleed like his, but it wouldn't. It wasn't deep enough.

"Were you assuming I'd protect you? I don't dabble in the realm of protection. Yet, you make me." For the first time in all her life, she was thrilled with the idea of imposing her will upon someone else. It burned him and she loved it when he was on fire.

"You have relied too much on Inuyasha. It has made you weak. Are you truly weak, Kagome?" She didn't say anything; she didn't have to speak. He'd do it for her, even though he didn't want to. "No, you are not. You are the bond that connects your group. Without you, they'd fall apart. They protect you because you are their centerpiece. If you are lost, then the game is lost. You are useful then, but think you are not. I loathe stating the obvious. Yet, _you_ make me."

He was right in front of her now, her eyes on his chest, and his fire spread to her, searing her from within. She could die like this, knowing she wasn't alone. "Do you expect me to treat you like that, like you are the center?"

"Can I make you?" she whispered, knowing he'd hear.

He grasped her chin and turned her head to the side as though he was inspecting her for flaws. He then made her look at his face and she wasn't opposed. She could feel his blood smearing across her cheek, but she didn't care. She wondered what it looked like, mixed with water.

"Would you be satisfied then?" His anger never subsided as he talked and it continued to simmer, even when he kissed her. He took her lips in a bruising manner, like he was teaching her a lesson she shouldn't forget. Both her hands encircled his forearm as she braced herself against him, willing to learn. She wouldn't forget, not the way his fingers pressed down, forcing her mouth to open, nor the way his tongue, unrelenting, demanded more from her. It felt like he was memorizing her mouth and she wanted to burn it into his memory.

His hand slid up her face and into her hair. She shuddered, suddenly needing more air, but he refused her. His head rolled to the other side of her face, his tongue never letting up though his rhythm slowed. It was methodical and purposeful, just like him. She succumbed to her incessant urge and wrapped her arms around his waist, sliding her hands up his back, slowly, so that she could trace every line. Her attention to detail wasn't lost on him and his hand moved down her neck, tracing the side of her body. He lingered on her hip and he followed the curved dip in such a lethargic exploration that she had to break away. Without missing a beat, his mouth found the pulse of her neck and he squeezed her hip. The air was at her disposal, yet she couldn't breathe. This was how that blonde must have felt, she thought as her eyes slid closed. She felt like a star, if only for a moment in time, and she felt so alive, if only briefly. She would do anything he asked of her; she would say anything he wanted to hear. She already felt addicted to him, to his mouth, to his touch—this was seduction.

He bit softly at her throat and she stumbled. He held onto her and pushed her forward onto the edge of the bank, his knee finding its stake in between her thighs. He was leaning over her as she looked at him and she thought he'd kiss her again. She _wanted _him to kiss her again.

"Kagome," he said, breathless and harsh. His anger was resurfacing and it excited her. He was never just one thing. At first, when he kissed her, he was demanding and impulsively greedy, like he was with family and heirlooms. Then, he slowed the world down with sensual strokes of his tongue and hand, reminding her of his patience and wisdom born from immense experience. He kissed her sternly this time, but not fully, like he was holding himself back—like he wasn't supposed to be doing this. He often denied himself, this she knew. It was amazing how different his kiss was from Inuyasha's.

Her belly burst into flames and she opened her eyes, startled, fractured sunlight capturing silver locks. Her skin prickled with heat and suddenly, she couldn't tell the difference between desire and guilt. This was Inuyasha's brother, his sworn enemy, even though a tenuous alliance of sorts had halted their rivalry. And she wanted him, Inuyasha's brother. What would Inuyasha think of her?

"Inuyasha…"

It was a soft utterance and for a moment she didn't think she had said it aloud. But he heard it. He pulled himself to his feet and stepped over her, walking away. She felt frozen and terrified. She felt plain awful.

She had seen silver hair, a commonality between the two, but she hadn't _seen_ Inuyasha. She just wondered and worried about him. He was her first love; he was precious to her. She didn't want to hurt him, so she wondered. Guilt resurfaced as she remembered the time Inuyasha said Kikyou's name after kissing her. She felt like she finally understood. Maybe he, too, was just wondering.

She scrambled to her feet; her eyes instantly finding Sesshoumaru's retreating back. She wouldn't repeat Inuyasha's mistake. She wouldn't let him walk away thinking something that wasn't true. She wouldn't let him run away.

She caught up to him and stepped in front of him, her arms spread to her sides, stopping him. He just looked at her with disinterested eyes, but she knew better.

"I'm sorry, Sesshoumaru, and I promise that I wasn't imaging him or anything. I really didn't mean it like that—it just popped out because of what I was feeling. I felt guilty, that's all, but I know it must have hurt your feelings and I'm sorry." He looked unfazed, like feelings were something he didn't have and thus they couldn't be hurt. Maybe Miroku was right; maybe Sesshoumaru didn't present himself honestly.

"Do you think you know me, Kagome?" he asked coolly, as though her apology was nothing more than a waste of words.

Suddenly, they felt worlds apart, like an invisible line separated them. He was old; she was young—the difference not marked by a few measly years. Time was the dividing line between them, she realized, but in reality that line was indivisible.

"I'll never have enough years to know all of you." She reached for his face and slid her fingertips along the line of his jaw. It was pronounced, but beautifully blended. He watched her eyes the entire time, like nothing else was visible. It made her blood heat.

He pushed her hand away and moved to leave. She grabbed his arm.

"You and I have something in common," she stated, his eyes finding hers, curiosity filling the infinite gap between them. "We run away from our problems. Don't run away from me. Face me." He remained silent and it irked her. It always did. "Say something—_anything_," she said, she pleaded. She didn't want things to be like this. She was making an effort; she wasn't letting Fate push her around as it pleased. Fate dealt the cards—some hands were winners and others were losers. But she could bluff. She could take risks. This was how she would reshape that clay.

He said nothing and she hated it. Worst of all, he _knew_ she hated it.

Maybe he was being honest. Maybe she hadn't hurt his feelings. But he walked away, so something didn't sit right with him and that something was Inuyasha. Maybe he remembered whom he was kissing and felt disgusted with himself. She could understand that; she was undergoing the same battle. But it wasn't the person she was kissing that was the problem. It was the rest of the world.

They stared at each for what seemed like an eternity. To him, it must've been nothing.

She couldn't take his silence anymore. She wrapped her arms around his waist, letting her weight fall downward, trying to drag him to the ground. He swayed for a moment, but didn't fall. She hung on tight, waiting for him to say something. She kept her eyes upward, looking at the bottom of his jaw. It twitched, then rolled.

"What are you doing?"

His anger was still intense as he stared down at her. She wondered why he was still so mad, but realized that she really didn't care. Let him be infuriated as long as he was still here and speaking; as long as he continued to do things he didn't want to do for her sake. She couldn't ask for more.

"Lay with me." His eyebrow rose. "Not in the perverted sense." For a moment, she was stunned that those words had come out of her mouth. She brushed aside her embarrassment, fully relenting herself to her whim. If her mouth ran away with itself, then so be it because she was a free, independent woman. She should be able to do as she pleased, just like Sesshoumaru.

"It's noontime." He was always so rational. He really needed to loosen up, like he had at the stream just moments ago.

"So? Let's waste the day away." She felt like a free bird, soaring high.

"We must search for Inuyasha. Certainly you miss him." She did, but she'd miss Sesshoumaru as well.

"He can wait. We'll find him tomorrow. Or the day after that."

"You are distancing yourself from him. That is surprising, considering that you have yet to let him go."

"I _have_ to let him go. I can't stay here. This isn't where I belong."

Suddenly, he pulled her down to the ground and lied back, causing her to fall forward onto his chest. He folded his arm behind his head and closed his eyes. It was just the two of them, lying on a random plot of earth by a small stream in the middle of the day. The leafy canopy above them swayed with a soft breeze, sweeping sunlight over them in intermittent splays.

"Smart girl," he said as she watched the shadows dance across his face.

The breeze felt like the tune of a lullaby, his voice its lyrics. She consigned herself to the moment, to him, and laid her head down upon the underside of his arm. He allowed it and she was glad.

They laid like that, with each other, the whole day. Most of it was spent in silence, but she savored the serenity born from quiet breezes, the warmth of his body and the light of the sun. Once dusk broke, she ended the silence, wanting to hear his voice, not knowing when it'd fade away, like the last verse of a song. She wanted their three and half minutes to last, but she knew the loop had to break, eventually.

"Sesshoumaru, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"What's your biggest regret?"

"Meeting you." For someone who had lived so long, that response was entirely too quick.

"Then why'd you kiss me?"

"Because I didn't want to." For someone so rationally minded, that answer didn't make any sense.

"Is that why you regret meeting me? Because I make you do things you don't want to do?" She smiled thinking his words a jest.

"Precisely." She wished he'd elaborate; she didn't want the last song to be a choppy one.

"People change with time, so I think you'll get over it."

"Not today." She laughed, forfeiting her wish and submitting to his staccato notes. Maybe tomorrow she'd hear that beautiful ballad. Suddenly, her stomach grumbled and she realized she hadn't eaten in hours. But she didn't want to move. The moment might shatter.

"I'd kill for an an-dango right now."

"_An-dango_?"

"They're sweet and yummy! You liked them too. Don't think I didn't notice that you ate the food I brought that day!"

"It was tolerable." Such a Sesshoumaru answer, she thought.

"Satsuki's has the best an-dangos in all of Tokyo!"

"_Tokyo_?"

"It's the city I live in. It doesn't exist yet, but it becomes the biggest city in Japan. Inuyasha's Forest will be subsumed by it."

"That is where you wish to further your schooling, correct?"

"Yep," she said, recalling their conversation about jobs and education. They really did have the strangest conversations. But gods, she loved them. "University of Tokyo, but I'll probably never see it. It's hard to get accepted to that university."

"You should try nonetheless. Otherwise, you may regret it."

"Sesshoumaru, can I—?"

"Yes."

"Why'd you really kiss me?"

He didn't answer and the stars soon revealed themselves. Twinkling brightly amongst the darkness, even the stars were content with infinite blackness. She could stay in the dark, for now at least. She was glad she didn't pester him, or leave his side to sate her hunger, because come tomorrow, he would be gone.

**x x x**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** There are minor manga spoilers in this chapter, but nothing that should truly upset anyone. Now that you have been warned, I would like to inform you that this has been _the_ single most difficult chapter to write in this entire story. It is also the longest chapter, but that couldn't be helped, as there were no good stopping points. The length of these last chapters is the main reason this story is ending so soon. There are some time skips in these last chapters as well, but I doubt anyone will be confused. However, please inform me if something is unclear. Enjoy! (I hope.)

One last thing - thanks for the comments, guys! You all really made me feel more confident. Mascarpone was the winner, although there were several votes for Gorgonzola. No one voted for more crackers. A few reviewers even went the extra mile and gave me their own cheese! So, I bought some Brie with **kitsunebot** in mind and some Gouda with **Rhiannonofthemoon** in mind to celebrate my perceived success of last chapter! Due to her comment, **45cats** doesn't get any cheese. Instead, I bought a bottle of Pinot Noir in her honor. Cheers!

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 24:**

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_**The logical connection is established.**_

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The water rippled and thrummed as she drew her knees to her chin. He was gone. And he didn't say goodbye. A blot of red dripped into the stream, winding and uncoiling into a line, thinning pink. She ran her fingers along the backside of her scalp—nothing. There should have been something, she thought. It was morning and it might as well have been night. She was enshrouded by darkness and he made sure to keep her there. She wanted to hate him for it. She didn't know who was hiding anymore, her or _him_.

"_Sesshoumaru, what's your biggest regret?"_

"_Meeting you."_

He wasn't lying. He may not present himself honestly, but he wasn't a liar. He was a coward that liked to save face. He could have at least told her completely, not partly, deceptively, like he had. Her chest hollowed as she took a breath, her eyes finding her shirt again. It was red, deep red, but only along the back. The rest was white, like the whole garment should have been. He never told her what had happened.

She tore her eyes away from the physical embodiment of her confusion and decided to shampoo her hair. She had hit her head, she knew she did. She drug her nails across her scalp as she lathered. Again, there was nothing. It had to be his blood on her shirt then, but there was so much. And it was on her back no less. But she would never know because he was gone. The next time she'd see him, if ever again, would be in the company of others and that meant she'd never know. He'd be too busy protecting his reputation; he wouldn't have to answer to a human girl. He was like Inuyasha, but worse.

She dunked her head and blanked her mind, her movements habitual. No matter how much she knew about him, no matter how much he told her, she had no idea what he thought. She would simply wait for that telltale sign, the roll of muscle over his jaw, and wait for him to say it. But he didn't like to talk, not really. Then again, she didn't know if that was true. All she knew was his past, not the man in the present.

Hotness pricked at her eyes and she told herself not to cry. She cried too much already. She always ran away and she tried to break the cycle, but he pushed her toward the woods, his back turned, prompting her to flee. She cupped her face in her hands, willing herself to be strong. She swallowed and stepped out of the stream to wrap a towel around her body. She saw her shirt again, red with blood. Darkness filled her mind and she kicked it into the stream, watching as the miniscule current carried it slowly away.

Foggily, she heard shouting nearby and she walked toward it, needing a distraction to forget her tears. Silver hair reflected the sunlight and she felt lost within herself. She saw more red and arms encircled her, words spoken. She strained, forcing herself outward.

"_Kagome_! Kagome, did he hurt you?"

Red, dark red enclosed her—more darkness to tease her into vulnerability, into perpetual ignorance.

"I smell blood, Kagome. I knew it; I just _knew_ I shouldn't have trusted him with you!"

A clank of beads drew her focus and the redness brightened, like a light turning, signaling her to stop.

"Inuyasha?"

"It was all fine when I was hanging around to protect you, but then I listen to you and go off to find that stupid toad! I just wanted to make things better, to be the peacemaker for once. And what do I get? Your tears, that's what!" Yes, Inuyasha was here. She never told him to leave, but there was no point in saying words that held no purpose.

"Inuyasha," she said breathlessly, gripping the arms around her. He was warm and comforting, always comforting, like home. "I'm fine."

"You…are?"

She closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest, wanting to feel that radiant warmth. His brother was scalding, but not warm.

"You lying, despicable half-breed! You said my Lord and Master was here, but he is nowhere in sight!"

"Hey!" he yelled at the imp that Kagome couldn't see. "I ain't no liar and he _was_ here! I've done my part. You go find that no good bastard on your own!" She hiccuped and his arms instinctively tightening around her.

"Liar! The Great Sesshoumaru-sama would never consort with the likes of her! She's a nothing but a filthy human!" Inuyasha made move to go after the imp, but she stopped him, pressing further into him.

"_Meeting you."_

"Just leave him be." She wanted to be held, to know that she was needed. She didn't know if Sesshoumaru really meant that, but she knew for a fact that Inuyasha didn't regret meeting her. And that was enough, for now.

"Kagome, what happened?" She wouldn't tell him, she couldn't. He'd hate her, though he wouldn't break. Inuyasha would never break; he was too strong. "Kagome?" His voice was quiet, like he would shatter her if not careful. For once she wanted him to throw caution to the wind, like nothing was truly breakable. She wanted to _feel_ his passion, but he reserved it for the battlefield alone. But Sesshoumaru, his brother, infused it into looks and words and touches. Her scalp burned and her pulse sped as she remembered one such display. And he did kiss her there, eventually. She dug her nails into Inuyasha's sleeves.

She realized then that she was clothed in only a towel. Inuyasha was too concerned to notice, but in a moment he would. Inuyasha would remove himself, blush and look away, telling her to get dressed. She wondered what Sesshoumaru would do. He would look at her, intensely; perhaps make a comment. She didn't know if he'd push her away or move closer, but he wouldn't look away. No, he most definitely would _not_ look away.

Inuyasha may not heat her blood with a single look, he may not make her mouth run dry with a single utterance, and he may never make her reevaluate the world with a single philosophy, but Inuyasha was strong and stable, like a rock. He was the protector, defending the home, her foundation. She hugged him tighter, knowing _home_ was a dichotomy in her life, but she was willing to believe otherwise. For today at least.

"_Kagome_!" Inuyasha shoved her away and turned around. She was expecting it, so she wasn't disappointed. Maybe that's why Sesshoumaru tried so hard not to feel, though it was obvious he did. If he could subdue his emotions, then disappointment would rarely befall him. It was smart and stupid all the same. He evaded falling, but he'd avoid rising. She had thought he'd rise, but he fell and he took her down with him. She wanted to hate him so badly.

Sesshoumaru was a thing of the past. If only she could let him die there.

**x x x**

As he walked the familiar path he repeated the same question in his head like a mantra. How did he get here? A week ago, he awoke at twilight in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar predicament. That girl, Inuyasha's miko, was lying next to him, asleep. And Inuyasha was nowhere in sight. He wracked his brain for an answer as to how he could've fallen so low, but all he could find was the beginning.

_xxx_

Frustrated with the idle turn of events regarding Naraku, Sesshoumaru sought advice from Bokusenou. Being ancient and wise, he out of all beings would know how to eradicate that blasted jewel that was wreaking havoc upon the land while in the hands of Naraku. The Shikon no Tama enabled Naraku's constant trickery and concealment, making him sick of the damned hanyou and that damned jewel. Both needed to be destroyed; it was his most urgent priority.

Jaken and Rin waited on the outskirts of the forest as he made his way to Bokusenou's place of rest. The tree youkai would most likely frighten Rin and Jaken was being most annoying today, and so he left them behind without hesitation or worry. The old tree greeted him before he was even in sight.

"Ah, Sesshoumaru-sama," Bokusenou said in a thunderous voice. "It has been quite some time since we last spoke. What brings you here this day?"

He responded once he was facing the reliable informant. "Tell me how to destroy the hanyou, Naraku, and the artifact he possesses, the Shikon no Tama."

"A hanyou has eluded your claws?" The earth vibrated as the tree spoke, like an earthquake shifting the land.

"The jewel allows him to escape and regenerate, even under the direst of circumstances. Therefore, it is most difficult to kill him."

"I see," Bokusenou replied thoughtfully, taking a moment to ponder the information. "The solution is not within your reach."

This was an unwelcome surprise. "How can that be? There is no being in this land more powerful than I."

"You speak the truth, but there is only one who can destroy the hanyou and his jewel. Her power is far different from yours."

"Who is she and where can I find her?"

"She is a priestess not of this world. There is no need to pursue her, for she already seeks the destruction of the Shikon no Tama and its bearer." Bokusenou was speaking of the undead miko; the one that had once denied him his right.

"Her intentions seem impure."

"They are not."

"Then why has she not defeated him yet?"

"Go to the forest of your brother's namesake. There is a clearing in the middle of the wood near the great tree on which he slept. There, you will find that which you seek."

"Should I even bother?" he asked skeptically, dissatisfied with Bokusenou's answers. "You said the solution was not within my reach. It seems illogical to seek her when you have already told me there is no need."

"The solution is not yours to reach, but you will ensure that its path is clear. 'Tis why Fate has guided you here this day."

There was nothing Sesshoumaru hated more than 'Fate'. Perhaps that was why he had yet to kill his brother. He wouldn't be able to take credit for it.

Now thoroughly annoyed, Sesshoumaru turned and left without another word spoken. Wanting to get the demolition of sacred jewels and irritating hanyou well underway, and not knowing what else to do, he took Bokusenou's advice and sent Rin and Jaken to his father's keep on the back of Ah-Un. With all distractions removed, he set off to Inuyasha's Forest with a clear head, all the while trying to piece together the puzzle lain before him.

The following day, he found himself on the border of the aforementioned clearing. He would have stepped into the clearing for further investigation had his brother not been standing at the lip of the well at its center. The wind was strong that day and billowing into his face, telling him he was downwind of Inuyasha and thus his position remained secret.

He heard the reminiscent hum of ancient magic and remembered walking by that harmless old well the time he visited his brother while spellbound to a tree. He couldn't help but wonder if that well had something to do with Bokusenou's premonition. The wood was primeval and saturated with magic, making him believe it was carved from the base of a timeless tree, like Bokusenou and the one on which Inuyasha slept.

His thoughts were dispelled upon hearing a muffled whisper. "Stupid girl and her stupid studies."

Inuyasha then proceeded to kick up a patch of earth, unintentionally thrusting it into the depths of the dry well. His brother peeked over the well's lip, making Sesshoumaru all the more inquisitive. Then, Inuyasha leapt into the well. The eccentricity of the action startled him at first, but he waited patiently for the boy's curses. He heard nothing. He waited again, this time for Inuyasha to reappear into the sunlight. Nothing happened. Finally, his mounting curiosity compelled him to go to the well and peer down into it. He wondered if Inuyasha caught a whiff of him and was trying to gain a point of leverage in order to wage a more advantageous attack. The idea was ridiculous, not because it was a weak battle tactic, but rather Inuyasha would never behave as such. Trickery wasn't one of Inuyasha's traits, even if it was beneficial under a particular set of circumstances. The boy would simply draw his sword and holler inane threats.

However, his wayward thoughts soon abandoned him. There was no hanyou at the bottom of the well. His senses tingled then and the tip of a shadow appeared in his peripheral vision. He turned as two youkai emerged from the darkness of the forest.

"Inuyasha, I presume?" the smaller of the two yelled across the distance. He had no idea what kind of youkai they were, nor did he care. He did take note, however, of the abundance of weaponry they carried.

"No," the larger one said, "he is full-blooded."

It was obvious they were assassins and their confidence implied that they were rather good at their trade. To him, they were nothing. The smaller one confirmed his suspicion.

"Where is the hanyou? I smell him here. We're here for his head and we don't wish to keep our master waiting."

"Who is your master?" he asked authoritatively, leaving no room for dissent.

The youkai paused and looked at each other. The small one spoke again. "That's none of your damn business. We're here for the half-breed, not you."

"That is the crux of the problem. His death is mine to sentence. No other shall have the privilege."

"It can't be helped then," the small, cat-like one said, pulling a sword from its scabbard. He followed suit, unsheathing Toukijin.

The battle began abruptly and soon they found themselves under the dark cover of the woods. His opponents were fast, especially the smaller of the two, his speed nearly matching Sesshoumaru's. They were also smart, both attacking him simultaneously. Many times pairs of youkai would attack separately, each wanting the right to claim victory for himself.

Metal collided and the battle continued like this for quite some time. Finally, Sesshoumaru surprised them by dropping his sword when they were within striking range. He released his youki whip, lacerating the smaller youkai's shoulder, and rounded on the large one within a moment's time, sinking his claws into the youkai's chest and expelling his poison. He allowed the youkai to claw him as he did this. It was a small price to pay to ensure a timelier demise. He leapt away as the smaller one came up behind him.

"_Bastard_," the small one said venomously, looking up at him with steely eyes. Sesshoumaru jumped down from the low hanging branch and approached them leisurely. They weren't half-bad opponents and he was feeling particularly unpleasant today. He might as well have some fun.

"Use it," the other one said, panting, sweat beading at his brow.

"But we're to test it on the hanyou."

"Use it." The large one then collapsed.

It seemed as though he'd have to end his entertainment. How disappointing. He charged the one left standing, intending to kill him before he had a chance to utilize this experimental weapon. Immediately, a familiar looking pod was tossed into the air, instantly producing insects of which Sesshoumaru was well acquainted. It would seem their master was in fact Naraku, making him thirst for their blood all the more. He smirked, knowing the poison was useless against him. He overlooked the fact that such poison was too weak to fatally injure Inuyasha, the half-breed son of a poison wielder.

He slashed the first few he came across, continuing to run toward his goal, not yet realizing that the insects were moving out of his way. The smaller youkai simply held his ground, crouching slightly so that he could jump away if need be. Then, he felt it. It was like thousands of fires had sparked aflame on his back. The sweet smelling smoke filtered through his senses, the recognition of purity making his head run in circles. He didn't understand how _youkai _insects could be armed with such a weapon. He gasped for air and looked to the ground, seeing the saimyoushou disintegrating like ash in the wind, leaving behind a tiny parchment covered neatly in kanji. The paper faded away before he could inspect it. It felt like a Naraku ploy, but Naraku wasn't resistant to purity. Naraku was quite resourceful, this he knew, but somehow or another he had forgotten. One of Naraku's incarnates was born within barrier of Mount Hakurei, making this little scheme quite feasible with a bit of research. Hanyou were undoubtedly the bane of his existence.

A piercing sensation rocketed through his thigh and he noticed the small youkai raising his sword once more. He propelled himself backward as the blade sliced across his face. The wound afflicting his face was shallow, but the one on his leg was deep. Luckily, he was amazingly immune to purity, but this was a high dosage and such large quantities would slow him down considerably, like it had at the base of Mount Hakurei. It would take time for his body to dilute it, but it wouldn't kill him.

He dodged attack after attack, now wishing he still had Toukijin in his grasp, but instead he settled for Tensaiga. He unsheathed it and used it as a blockade. His opponent was faster now and to make matters worse, it seemed his speed had at least doubled from before. The high level of purity in his blood was affecting his vision and he swore he was seeing double. Claws dug into him, everywhere. A sword ripped through his leg again while another slashed across his chest and a foot connected hard with his stomach, causing him to stumble.

From above, his nemesis dropped down, sword poised. He leapt back, but he was too slow as the blade managed to plunge into his other leg, stalling his movement. The youkai pulled on his firmly staked sword so that he could move away, but it wouldn't budge. Sesshoumaru was bleeding excessively. His body couldn't keep up, not when it was trying to heal such a multitude of injuries while diminishing the purity's effects. If this battle continued much longer, he could potentially die from blood loss. And that was unacceptable.

With a renewed resolve, he stood hastily, forcing the pinned steel outward, further tearing his flesh and momentarily stunning his opponent. A moment was all he needed. He staked Tensaiga in the ground and slashed the youkai across the throat before he could retreat. That was when he noticed the youkai's shoulder was uninjured. There were two of them and they looked identical. His senses drew him to the left and he pulled the sword from his leg and thrust it outward. Pain barreled through his torso as he heard flesh ripping apart. The sword in his hand pierced the other youkai's belly while a sword simultaneously impaled his ribcage. Feeling suddenly tired; he summoned the last bit of his strength and pushed his sword upward, lazily splitting the youkai's midsection. The youkai went limp, falling further onto the blade in Sesshoumaru's hand, his body sliding down its shaft in a gruesome manner. The dead weight caused the metal in his ribs to push further inward. He slid himself backward, slowly removing the weapon from his body. He stood, haggardly, immediately hearing the faint thrum of a heartbeat.

He couldn't help but admire their resourcefulness. One twin remained hidden until he was absolutely needed. Had those insects not been released, he would've still had to fight two at a time. It would seem that they in fact had two secret weapons. Pitilessly, he sunk his claws into the other twin's injured neck and ripped out his throat. The remains scattered, like dirt in water.

They were smart and strong, but the three of them still couldn't take him down. Not even with the power of purity to weaken him. He wanted to laugh, but couldn't muster the energy. He started walking away, sloppily, in a dream-like state. There was blood everywhere and his clothes were torn, like his body. He paused and swaggered, amazed that he allowed himself to be injured so severely. It was because of those modified saimyoushou that he endured such damage. Ironic, really, since he was the one to first release them upon the land. Deliriously, a laugh managed to escape him this time and he collapsed onto the blood-sodden ground, blackness slowly creeping into his eyes.

It would seem he was indeed becoming more like his father as he was more frequently underestimating his enemies. His father acted as though he was invincible and it killed him. Like his father, Sesshoumaru knew none were stronger than he, but deceitful ploys and catered tactics could always serve to minimize the power gap. He needed to be more careful. Perhaps he should have let Inuyasha deal with them. On second thought, those modified insects would've been enough to kill a hanyou and Inuyasha was his to kill. As the Inu no Taishou, he assumed his predecessor's debts, no matter how delinquent they had become.

He may be tolerant of purity, but he obviously wasn't immune. He could feel its effects and he imagined that this was what it felt like to be poisoned. He sputtered blood and realized that he couldn't intake enough air as the blackness deepened. His head pounded from the strain and he wondered, briefly, if his body could repair itself. He assumed it would, but at what cost?

_xxx_

It was perplexing and that blackness was the last he'd remember; like a void it sucked his defenses into oblivion. He was here now, alive, standing before an aged building, sturdy, like his memory. He circumvented his brother's bout with danger and as a result he awoke next to a human girl.

He took a deep breath as he entered the drab building; it was as dark and drafty as he remembered. He headed to his rooms, no more soldiers or servants to cross his path. For a moment, he wondered what his father would think of his legacy now that it didn't exist anymore. Honestly, he shouldn't care what that man would think. Land and titles shouldn't matter anyway, seeing as how they were poor indicators of true power. Sometimes, he felt as though he was taking for granted the fact that the world could change one day.

The moment he stepped into his corridor Jaken appeared. Smiling, the squatty imp ran up to him and bowed, tears brimming. Jaken had always been ridiculously dramatic, but fiercely loyal.

"Sesshoumaru-sama! I was so worried! You were gone for an eternity!" the imp gushed as tears fell. The display was rather sickening. "That stupid, lying Inuyasha came here and said you had been gravely injured. So injured that you couldn't recall your own name! I went with him to retrieve you, but you were nowhere in sight! Nothing has ever happened like this before and I was so worried, milord!"

Something like this _had_ happened before. He lost an arm because he underestimated an opponent, but he had never lost his name, not really. It would never abandon him, no matter how many years swept past.

He ignored Jaken and stepped over him, going straight for his room. It would still be there, just as he left it. He didn't know what he felt like doing, but he didn't want to be bothered by groveling servants.

"Sesshoumaru-sama?" Jaken asked as he followed.

"I wish to be left alone," Sesshoumaru ordered as he slammed the screen shut in the imp's face. He pressed his fingers to his forehead as he made his way to the window. He pulled the shutter open, the light nearly blinding. He didn't even have time to adjust to the sunlight as arguing erupted outside his door.

"I'm sorry, milord, but Sesshoumaru-sama does not wish to be disturbed!"

"I will bother him if I so please!" Deep and clear, that voice brought back memories, like looking into the bluest of waters and seeing past the reflection, to the bottom.

The screen opened abruptly and Jaken scrambled underneath the larger youkai's legs in an attempt to apologize for the disruption. He was stepped on as the towering demon walked on ahead.

"_They_ have been here for an entire moon cycle and a half! How dare you send a human girl and that annoying imp to me without retrieving them with haste!" Sunlight slipped over green eyes, making them look pale and deathly. This anger didn't frighten him, not anymore.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Kazuma?"

Kazuma straightened his posture while maintaining strict eye contact. "It's been half a decade—just like your father, but at least you have the decency to send correspondence."

"Any leads?"

"I've exhausted them all and none have been fruitful. However, there is a rumor of a witch in the north who dabbles in the art of regeneration. It appears to be nothing more than feeble gossip, but I'll look into it nonetheless." Sesshoumaru nodded, his eyes looking out into the sunlight again.

"I finally met Inuyasha," Kazuma said off-handily.

"And?" He could make out a tree now, in the distance, clarity finally finding him.

"He is nothing more than an unkempt version of his father."

Sesshoumaru nodded. Sometimes, he believed that was why he hated Inuyasha with such passion.

"He wanted to know if I had any relation to him. For a moment, he was displeased."

"For a moment?"

"He called me an asshole and said it was no wonder I was related to you. It seems he is more disagreeable than his father." A smile tugged at the corner of Sesshoumaru's lips. He indulged himself, half-heartily.

"What happened to you?"

His smirk faded. "At Mount Hakurei, Naraku created another incarnate, named Hakudoushi. Due to the circumstances of his birth, he has an even higher tolerance to purity than I. Naraku most likely used Hakudoushi to modify the saimyoushou to excrete purity, which resulted in massive injuries to my person. I see no other explanation, although neither viper was present. Naraku had to be the instigator. Hakudoushi doesn't mind dirtying his own hands. If Naraku wasn't involved, then it would seem Hakudoushi is starting to act independently and subversively. I doubt Naraku will tolerate that for long."

"I've grown tired of hearing the name Naraku. You need only ask for my aid and I will gladly help you destroy him." It was a tempting offer, but he had no desire to steal away someone's father.

"That is unnecessary. Only one can destroy him and the Shikon no Tama."

"Very well, but I must inquire as to why you're still pursuing him if you believe you cannot destroy him?"

"I must clear the path."

He met Kazuma's eyes then and the elder demon had questions lingering there, but didn't ask. Suddenly, footsteps were heard running through the hall and Rin appeared in the doorway, only lingering there for a moment.

"Sesshoumaru-sama!" she sang merrily, running up to him and stopping at his feet. She always maintained her distance, and for that he was grateful. "Look!" she exclaimed, holding up a piece of parchment. "Ichi-nii-san taught me how to write my name! He taught me Sesshoumaru-sama's too!" She grinned widely as he inspected her work. Her penmanship was terrible, but that was to be expected. He hated illiteracy and was beginning to think he should leave her here so that her education didn't fall to the wayside. He wondered what Kazuma would think of that. His lip twitched, wanting to smirk like a fiend.

"I apologize, father," the dark-headed youth said as he bowed respectfully. "I tried to stop her, but she was incessant. I feared injuring her, so I let her come."

Kazuma nodded and the boy stood upright. "Take her now. Sesshoumaru and I still have things to discuss."

Rin looked up at Sesshoumaru with a slight pout, but he knew she wouldn't protest. She was just waiting for him to verify it before she complied. It was funny that she named his creature Ah-Un. They could share that name, seeing as how they were no different.

"Rin, go." She smiled and turned, grabbing his cousin's wrist and dragging him out the door with her.

"In your letters, you never spoke of her. Had she not been with the toad and the dragon and covered with your scent, I would not have believed it to be true. What possessed you to keep company with a human girl?"

"I revived her with Tensaiga. Therefore, she is mine to protect. My generosity will not go to waste."

"Be that as it may, you have yet to answer my question."

Sesshoumaru turned his attention back to the world outside his dirty windowsill. Kazuma let the dust settle, for now.

"I take it you will not send her to a human village then?"

"Only if she so wishes."

"Perhaps that is unfair to her. It's strange, but she adores you despite your negligent attitude. She will not ask to leave. Do you think it's appropriate to raise her among youkai?"

"I do not know. She has never once feared me, yet she fears her own kind."

"If she is to stay here, then I require that she become learned. Understood?"

"Perfectly."

"Fine. I will make arrangements for her to stay. However," Kazuma began pointedly, "I refuse to be the caretaker for a human girl. She is to travel with you until your quest is complete. Then, she may return here with you." That was easier than he expected. Perhaps Kazuma missed him? Sesshoumaru ignored the thought and looked to his uncle, curtly nodding his consent. Kazuma turned sharply, intent on leaving.

"Kazuma." His uncle paused, not turning to look at him. "For a moment, I had forgotten you."

"Oh? And how was that?"

"Empty." His uncle turned to look at him then, surprise evident on his face. It was comforting to see the bottom of the abyss, as brief as it was.

"I see you've finally done some thinking. May I ask what brought this about?"

"I was forced to learn who I am today by looking at the past. It has shaped me, but I realize now that it's virtually unimportant. The present is most important. Only then can the past be redefined."

"That is true, but not completely. The past will always be there, even if your present life breaks the cycle of your past life. Do you know why the present is truly more important?"

He quirked an eyebrow as he waited, feeling a tad uncomfortable. Kazuma was always right after all. "Why?"

"Because the present makes way for the future."

Kazuma walked away then, leaving Sesshoumaru to ponder those words as he looked out into the dying afternoon. He awaited the clean beauty of sunset that made way for the stars, knowing it'd take forever to arrive, but he could wait.

He could wait.

**x x x**

She shoved the cash in her wallet and waved goodbye to the store's clerk as she walked out into the blinding sunlight. Black spots turned green, her sight adjusting, as she made her way to her aging car. She was relieved that all of her books sold, although one was still mysteriously missing. But she made some money! Her euphoria faded upon remembering just _how much_ she originally spent on those books. College was expensive and this wasn't even a fully accredited four-year institution! She shuddered at the prospect of _those_ expenses, but immediately realized that expensive universities were most likely something she'd never have to worry about.

She was in her last semester of community college and she wasn't doing so hot. Last semester, her grade point average took a pitfall, countering all of her previous hard work. Things had gotten crazy in the Feudal Era causing her to steadily miss more and more class. One class she was flunking due to a strict attendance policy, but since she had missed the entire second week of class, the professor allowed her to simply drop the course. There shouldn't be an attendance policy when she was paying for the damn class! The other classes didn't have attendance policies, but she was still riding that abominable fence between passing and failing. Her mother was _not_ happy.

She sighed as she started the engine, wondering how she was going to manage. Chaos had begotten her life and there was no foreseeable path back to peace of mind. Her quest in the past had taken a drastic turn for the worse and the end still lay far in the distance. On a positive note, Naraku's minions were dropping like flies, but that didn't make her feel any better. Watching Kanna die was horrific even though she knew there was no other alternative. Now, Byakuya was the only one remaining.

With all the death surrounding Naraku's posse, her little group of friends faced distress. Kohaku was a part of that detestable group and months had passed where they hadn't heard word of him. Finally, they learned he was traveling with Kikyou, but that knowledge didn't alleviate their stress. Sango feared that the undead priestess would one day just decide to rip the shard from her brother's back. It took a lot of coaxing to calm her worries. Thinking of Kohaku, an image came to mind that she wished would disappear into oblivion. Sesshoumaru had just left that day and she had seen him a few times since. It was like their time together had never been.

She saw Toukijin break and she wanted to cry. She realized then that she was truly an idiot. No wonder she couldn't make good grades a habit.

The first time she laid eyes upon him since their little ordeal, he acted like he always did—as though Inuyasha was a nuisance and she didn't even exist. The next time, he swooped down at a rather convenient time and defeated the troublesome water god as though slaying a powerful being was as easy as taking a breath. He carried one sword now, Tensaiga, and it was all he needed. She wondered how he managed to master it.

Then he left, not even sparing her a glance. That was how it was now, or rather, that was how it had always been.

The most memorable of their meetings since _that_ time was when they crossed paths and Sango finally found a sliver of peace. Again, Sesshoumaru unintentionally did something good for someone. She wondered what he'd say to that sentiment, but she already knew. He had said it to Sango.

_xxx_

They were just traveling along, to where she didn't know and ultimately she didn't care. She was missing a lot of school and her mind was clouded. It seemed she was once again setting herself up for failure. Kouga said goodbye, Kikyou died and Kohaku was becoming increasingly difficult to track. A dreary spell had come upon them and the overcast was indefinitely gloomy. She was having trouble dealing with it all, but at least her occupied mind didn't have room for Sesshoumaru anymore. She hated thinking about him. At first, she was devastated because she thought what he had said was true—that he regretted meeting her. She figured he was appalled by her, _by himself_, and that's why he left without a word.

"_Usually their recovery period is forgotten."_

That time she saw him, as he slew the water god, she recalled her professor's words and became convinced that he couldn't remember his time of recuperation. Believing he didn't remember her was easier to swallow since everything else in her life was falling apart.

"Kagome looks quite stunning today, wouldn't you say, Inuyasha?"

She blushed and looked at the ground. Ever since her innocent _fling_ with Sesshoumaru, _if _it could be so labeled, Miroku made it his mission to get her some genuine male attention. Sesshoumaru didn't come through and so the monk was back to working on Inuyasha. It was embarrassing and way too pushy, but at least his lewd comments served as a distraction and made the group laugh at times or toss around some friendly banter. Miroku really was an amazing guy, despite his times of impure intentions.

"Huh?" Inuyasha replied, obviously not paying attention. He still hadn't regained his bearings since Kikyou's death, but that was understandable. She wondered if he, too, was falling apart inside.

"I think those clothes hug her curves in all the right ways." Her eyes shot up and her cheeks flamed. He didn't have to go so far! He looked at her then, from over his shoulder, and winked. Sango tensed, ready to physically reprimand the monk when Inuyasha suddenly stopped, gripping the hilt of his sword.

Miroku became rigid and scanned the immediate area, seriousness filling his tone. "What's wrong, Inuyasha?"

"Sesshoumaru."

Her heart thudded violently and she held her breath, trying to calm herself—she didn't want Inuyasha to notice. Her eyes were drawn to white as he crested the hill, a large two-headed beast behind him and a tiny imp at his feet. It would seem that they were just passing through. Coincidence, really.

Realizing this, Inuyasha crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his nose in the air, neither brother offering words to the other. It was always a terrible sight to see them around each other, but at least they weren't fighting anymore. Well, not _really_.

That little girl was sprawled across the dragon's back and she noticed a figure walking behind the beast's hind legs. Sango was the first to recognize him.

"Kohaku!" Sango immediately lunged for her brother, startling him. Kohaku turned to run away, but it only took the utterance of one word to halt him.

"Kohaku," Sesshoumaru said plainly, sternly. The boy paused, placing his hand on the dragon's side as if it would keep him there.

A teary-eyed Sango moved forward and Sesshoumaru slipped in front of her. She stopped herself before running into him. Kagome noted the stiffness of his shoulders and the hard line of a clenched jaw. He always had trouble relaxing, although he appeared so calm.

"What are you doing? He's my brother!"

Sesshoumaru stared her down and spoke dispassionately. The man under the stars who liked to read was gone, a dry replica in his place. She tried to look away, but couldn't.

"He is not yet ready to face you." She wanted to yell at him for being an insincere jerk. Now, under these circumstances, he'd probably kill her for it.

"You—you're protecting him?" Quiet confusion reigned and Miroku stepped forward to speak his mind. Kagome watched as Sesshoumaru's jaw rolled; she placed a silencing hand on the monk's shoulder.

"You misconstrue. He carries the last shard of the Shikon no Tama. Under my supervision, Naraku will not possess it." His eyes flickered to her for a brief moment; she wanted to cry all over again.

"_You are lax in your duty."_

With that, Sesshoumaru and his posse walked away. Sango was devastated, but Kagome tried her best to soothe her. After all, Sesshoumaru was more than capable of protecting Kohaku and he had nothing to gain from killing the boy. Sango finally recovered when she reminded her about the little girl named Rin. Two human children now accompanied him and he was now able to use Tensaiga as a weapon at his command. Sesshoumaru was changing—had been changing—and all because of a little girl with sloppy hair and a gap-toothed smile. She hoped to thank her one day, wondering what it'd be like to have such an impact on someone's life. She supposed she already knew. Even Sesshoumaru had said she changed Inuyasha.

Briefly, she wondered if Sango's acceptance of the arrangement was due to the fact that she stayed by Sesshoumaru's side as he recovered. She would never ask, too afraid to resurrect such a touchy subject and too cowardly to remind her friends of her deceit. Her excuse had been simple—he was an ally, albeit a reluctant one. Inuyasha knew there was more to it and Miroku knew it all, but Sango never pushed her for more of an explanation. And for that, she was grateful.

She was pulled from her thoughts as Sango stood, tall and proud. Sango had watched as her brother killed her family, she saw the aftermath of her village's massacre and she knew her brother wouldn't walk away from this—yet she stood proud. Like Inuyasha, the world could be caving in, yet Sango wouldn't fall into the crevasse. Kagome was almost envious, but she couldn't help but wonder what would happen when it was time to put the jewel back together.

That's when everything would really fall apart.

"_I must accept the inevitable changes that will occur around me."_

She could handle it; she _had_ to handle it. She was already aware that the world as she knew it would never be the same once her quest was complete. She was going to go home when it was all over. It was the right decision; the best choice for her life. But that knowledge didn't make her feel any more secure or sure of herself.

"_I must adapt."_

She just needed to learn to be more at ease with her decisions.

_xxx_

She thought about Sesshoumaru more than she liked to admit. Every time she sat before the fire and rested quietly with her friends, she imagined he was there, sitting across the subdued flames, a book propped open in his lap. When dusk finished mediating between night and day, the stars would capture her eyes, making her envision a rolling jaw and smooth words. When the rain fell and her bath water ran, she thought about his broad shoulders and haunting eyes. She remembered that drop of water sliding down his collarbone and she realized then that she missed Sesshoumaru's brand of calculated sarcasm and refined bluntness. Suddenly, she yearned to see his graceful gait and beautiful face.

A honk and squealing tires awoke her with a startling chill. A silver truck then maneuvered around her little sedan, the words _Almohad Foundation_ printed in bold pink letters on the side of the vehicle. She breathed deeply as the truck started to pass her and she mouthed the word 'sorry' as it flanked her car. Green eyes ensnared hers for the briefest of moments. She didn't even get a good look at the man, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, making her feel wanton and suddenly lonely.

She parked her car on the street and brushed it off, attributing her nostalgia and near collision to dead-end thoughts of Sesshoumaru. She grabbed her bags and locked the door, readying herself to make the exhausting climb up the shrine's steps. The shrine grounds looked like a war zone with all the construction that was currently underway. They'd been at it for a few months now and it'd probably continue for a few more months to come.

She followed the wooden planks that led to her house, waving at the workmen as she passed. She saw her mother exiting the front door with a large tray in her hands

"Mama, I'm back!"

"Oh, Kagome! Did all your books sell?"

Kagome giggled sardonically. She had been spending so much time in the Feudal Era that she kept forgetting to sell her books. The going rate really plummeted since she waited so long. "All but one. Have you found my economics book yet?"

"I've looked all over for it, but I can't find it. Either it's hiding from us or someone's stolen it in the middle of the night!" her mother said with a short laugh. "Maybe you left it at school?"

"It had my information in it, so I'd imagine that it would've been returned by now. I guess I need to just chalk it up as a loss."

Her mother laughed again. "Did you happen to see him?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Takahashi just left and so I thought you might have seen him on your way out." Her mother was quite peeved when she failed to report home the day he returned with the building plans. It didn't matter anyhow. She was too busy flunking college and chasing feudal demons to worry about modern men.

"Um, no, I didn't." Now that she thought about it, Mr. Takahashi had to be that green-eyed man, also known in the Higurashi household as _the__demigod_! Well, she got a tiny glimpse of his eyes, but she decided to forgo that part since it only happened because she almost hit his truck. She didn't want to confess to her mother that an ancient taiyoukai was slowly turning her daughter into a ditz.

"Oh, too bad."

"Let me get that."

"Thank you, sweetheart, but I'll get this one. You can help me with the rest, but first you need to go greet your visitor."

"Visitor?" That was an uncommon word. Usually, that word referred to Inuyasha. She was quite putout when her mother told her that he had been stopping by while she was at school, despite their agreement. She was too smitten with the idea that he missed her to be angry with him.

"Ayumi is in your room! She's on a break from school and wanted to see you. Poor girl is nearly killing herself with work. You have to be perfect to get into medical school after all!"

"Really?" She was supposed to go back to the Feudal Era today, but she was really excited by the prospect of seeing her old high school pal. She'd have to go back after dark anyway because of all the construction workers.

"Take a few minutes to say hello, then come back down and help me with these trays. The men have been working so hard that I decided to make them some refreshments. Don't worry, I'll save some for you girls." Her mother winked and walked away.

"Thanks, mom!" she yelled after her, anticipation crawling under her skin. She ran up the stairs in a hurry, only to find Ayumi reading a recently printed document. She swallowed, hard.

"Kagome!" Ayumi exclaimed. Her old friend embraced her fiercely while still holding onto those papers. "It feels like we haven't seen each other in forever!" Ayumi seemed more confident than she remembered, but she supposed that was normal for a successful college student.

"Yeah, I know! I'm so happy to see you!" she gushed, her eyes finding that damnable essay again.

"Oh! You are _not_ going to believe who I ran into!"

"Who?" She was too preoccupied with waving sheets of white to play the guessing game.

"Let me start from the beginning. You already know I'm attending Kyoto University and I study medicine. Well, I want to be a doctor and like all good medical students-to-be, I got an internship. Lucky me got a position at White Stone Memorial, which is like _the_ research hospital in all of Japan. Who did you used to know that had a doctor for a dad?"

"I don't know, who?" She hated guessing; she'd rather just be told. She was too distracted anyway, seeing as how her _very_ personal essay was in Ayumi's hands, obviously already having been read. Maybe Ayumi didn't read the whole thing. Maybe she didn't get past the first paragraph! She didn't mean to write about him; it just came out like that.

"I am working under Nakashima Daisuke—Tsume's dad!"

"Really?" It was a bit shocking, but she hadn't heard a word from Tsume in almost seven years. Honestly, she could care less, despite how she _used_ to feel about him.

"Yeah! He's playing semi-pro baseball and he asked about you."

"Oh?"

"What do you mean 'oh'? Tsume is a real heartthrob now! I have his number. I think you should call him."

"He's in Kyoto and I'm in Tokyo. He never forwarded his address and he never made contact with me. You can keep his number."

"Wow. You had a big thing for him once. I thought it was real too. But I guess hearts move on, huh?" She smiled and shook the papers in her hand, making Kagome cringe.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I didn't know you were going for the Aiko Scholarship. When I was deciding between schools, I applied for this scholarship. I didn't get it, so I went to Kyoto since they offered me one." Kagome paled, knowing that if the ever-brilliant Ayumi didn't get it, then she definitely didn't have a chance.

Ayumi noticed her fallen face. "You should still go for it since it's for female psychology majors. I mean, scholarships are all about _who_ you know and I'm sure you can get some good recommendations from your professors. I was just a high school student when I applied and it worked out okay since I'm not even a psychology major anymore. This scholarship favors community college students and those in need—both of which you _are_ and I was _not_."

Kagome's expression still refused to perk up. As it was, she might not finish community college. "Plus, I heard that the essay is _the_ most important criterion on which this scholarship is based. And Kagome, your essay is _amazing_! Please don't be mad at me for reading it! I was bored and it was just there." Ayumi was rambling, but Kagome lightened up a bit.

"You think it's good?"

"Kagome, I said _amazing_. You evaluated the process by which a man regained his memories and reflected upon his past so that he could come to terms with himself. Tokyo U has a lot of money invested in their psychology program, especially the parts that cover the human memory and personality, both of which you exemplified beautifully!"

"My essay is amazing?" she repeated, feeling suddenly giddy.

"Oh, Kagome, it's so personal too! They're going to eat it up! You even wrote it so artistically."

"Artistically?"

"You used the spectrum of white light and broke it down into its covert colors in order to demonstrate the multi-faceted nature of the human personality, while simultaneously demonstrating the skews of individual perception, namely the memory. I feel like I know this man and I've never even met him! For real, Kagome, it sounds like you're in love with him."

The air suddenly became incompatible with her lungs.

"_Kagome_!" her mother called from downstairs. Thank the gods for small favors, she thought.

"I need to help my mom real quick."

"I'll help too!"

Kagome ignored her stomach, which was currently testing its acrobatic skills, and found her mother in the kitchen, a tray of drinks promptly shoved into her hands.

"Thank you, girls! I'm starting to get too old for heavy lifting!"

"Don't be silly, Ms. Higurashi!" The two women laughed and Kagome finally adjusted to her gastrointestinal summersaults. After all, she _loved__all _of her friends, right?

"Take it to the workers at the front of the shrine. I'll follow you girls with the snacks." As usual, her mother was going overboard, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless. No wonder people thought Kagome was so nice; they'd think nothing of it if they knew her mother.

She balanced the tray somewhat uneasily as she made her way to the first cluster of workmen at the front of the shrine. A few were taking a break as others continued prying off a large wooden beam near the entryway. She offered them the drinks and they smiled and thanked her. Her load became lighter and she waited patiently for the others to finish their current task so they could have a drink as well. Ayumi was busy admiring their work.

The board came loose and collapsed to the ground with a harsh thud, her heart plummeting with it. Her eyes saw it, but her brain couldn't comprehend it. She dropped the tray, ceramic cups shattering as the men yelled in concern. She couldn't hear them, not when _his _voice was drowning all her senses.

"_Yet, _you_ make me."_

She felt warm as she registered soft hands on her face; faintly realizing that Ayumi and her mother were most likely worried. Ayumi probably thought another spell of whacko sickness had befallen her. She couldn't turn to look at them though, not now, not when _he_ managed to turn the world upside down all over again. And she liked the gravitational pull the way it was, yet, once again, he denied her.

There, painted in a deep blue on a plank of wood adhered to the front of her family's shrine, was a crescent moon that was too familiar to be coincidental. Sesshoumaru certainly refused to die and this time, she couldn't rouse the will to hate him for it.

**x x x**

**A/N:** Two chapters left! Ha – I bet everyone thought Kazuma was dead! Also, kudos to anyone who can figure out all the pieces set forth in this chapter. Hint: it's all in the labels.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** There is one chapter left! I'm nervous about the ending since this is the first work-in-progress that I am to finish. So tell me how I'm doing! Also, thank you to **PlayingWithDemons** and **Quirkyslayer** for nominating this story in the IYFG for Best Characterization. Another thank you is given to **Kanazawa** for taking the time to review _every _chapter in a two-day period. You're too sweet! Oh, I love you guys!

Congratulations to **Kurtz** for correctly guessing the meaning behind Almohad Foundation. **Rinseternalsoul** was on the right track, but gave up—don't do that anymore! But Almohad wasn't the only "label", as you will see.

**Temporal Sequence**

**Chapter 25:**

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**_External factors unavoidably affect decision-making. _**

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She clutched the slip of paper between her fingers as she boarded the train. It was Sunday and so the hoards of passengers were more orderly and she found a seat easily, her fingers still working the paper's edge. It was a receipt from a photo shop. She ordered more copies from the negatives of an already printed roll of film.

Before the death of Naraku and the completion of the Shikon no Tama, Kagome gave all her friends a parting gift so that they would remember her long after her departure. Inuyasha scoffed at the sentiment, Sango and Shippou cried and Miroku told her that she was unforgettable regardless of memorable trinkets.

She gave Sango a golden locket containing a picture of them inside. Mirkou was given a blue photo album filled to the brim with photographs she had taken of their little group with a cheap disposable camera; she didn't want to risk breaking her mother's camera in the Feudal Era. She gave Shippou some candy and a pink blanket since she'd soon be gone and there'd be no one to keep him warm at night. Inuyasha was given a red baseball cap that a boy had given her years prior and a case of ramen that probably wouldn't even last a month. The ramen, however, was a definite must and Kaede was kind enough to store it for him. She wanted to give Inuyasha something more original, something more special, but nothing came to mind. Knowing his rag-tag ways, he'd break something precious or wouldn't want to be burdened with something useless. So, the hat was recycled since it wasn't cumbersome and it could keep his ears warm, or hidden if he so desired. It also reminded her of the times Inuyasha came through the well and into the modern era where doggy ears weren't considered cute or demonic. She liked remembering him like that; when he was edgy and overprotective.

Miroku's gift was of special importance though. Like Inuyasha, it was hard to come up with a suitable present and she refused to purchase questionable materials. Not only was it a matter of principle, but it was also determined with Sango in mind. The two were to be married after all. She found a beautiful wooden album glossed with a blue-tinted stain with a ringed pattern carved into it. Someone once told her that she was the center of her group and after she was gone, Miroku was the obvious successor. Whenever Inuyasha or Shippou wished to see her face, they'd have to go to Miroku.

Dissatisfied with her choice to return to her own era, Shippou pleaded with her and begged that she come back to visit after their quest was complete. Heartbroken, she explained herself, saying that the jewel would be gone and she'd have no way to return home. That was when Inuyasha shocked her unlike ever before.

"_I don't need that stupid wish. You should keep that stupid jewel."_

In a round-about way, Inuyasha had told her that he loved her, _really_ loved her—that _she_ was more important than his heart's greatest desire. And that was all it took to change her mind.

She cried and hugged each of her friends, now feeling worlds better. She'd go home and live there, but she'd visit her friends from time to time. She knew the well could trap her on either side, but these people were important enough to her to take that risk.

If only they would have known what would happen.

She fingered the paper that tracked her printed memories. Tears welled and she hung her head, the faint beat of a pop song humming along with the electric skid of metal. An intercom announced the next stop, a blinking digital sign catching her attention as it verified the mechanized words. The boy sitting next to her moved to the opening doors, leaving her tuneless as she listened to bustling footsteps and automated voices. The world felt so cold nowadays.

The metal ground with friction and the world sped up again. Sometimes, if she looked hard enough, she thought she could see the blue spark of electricity as the subway car gained momentum. It was probably in her head, though, but the day Fate charged her footsteps and carried her away on an automated track, she did see the blue current, marking her path as it pulled her along. It was sad and almost funny how perfect Fate's timing had been.

She remembered it so clearly, but she supposed these were the types of things one would never forget.

Sesshoumaru joined them the day they defeated Naraku. In the end, he was the one to deal the killing blow, but it wouldn't have been possible without Inuyasha and her arrow. It was beautiful seeing the two brothers fight side by side as a team, each trying to create an opportunity for the other to utilize his sword. They easily weakened Naraku, but then, suddenly, Inuyasha took a surprising and devastating blow to the chest. He wasn't moving and the shock of it all wasn't lost upon Sesshoumaru, whose distraction permitted a tentacle to impale his back, exiting through his belly.

Her anger grew to unparalleled heights and she notched an arrow with more fury than she could ever recall feeling. The light it created was blinding and she couldn't see well enough to know where her target was, and so she held on tight, waiting for a sign. Her sign came in the form of Sesshoumaru's voice. The arrow flew, straight and true, lodging itself into Naraku's neck. She had never before launched such a powerful arrow. Inuyasha was already up, his claws in Naraku's chest, holding him in place so that her arrow could hit. She gasped, wondering if he'd survive such an onslaught of purity. She yelled for him as he ripped his hand from its bloody enclosure.

Inuyasha leapt away, but Sesshoumaru remained. His skin was burning from the close proximity to her arrow and yet he still managed to pull Tensaiga from its scabbard. She watched, wide-eyed, as the half-moon tore through the air's fabric, creating a pathway just for Naraku. And that was the end of their quest. Fate only had one card left to play and there was nothing she could do to prevent its outcome.

"_Open your hand."_

Sesshoumaru placed the Shikon no Tama and its last shard in her hand. The shard's previous owner no longer had any use for it. The shard merged with the nearly complete jewel, a sphere molding within her hands. The jewel was so horribly tainted that it seared her palm as she held it, which had never happened before. She clenched her teeth and drew a sharp breath; more tears forthcoming as she withstood the pain. The color was slowly lightening from an abysmal black to a dark purple.

Then, a subtle pressure enveloped her, like hands gently squeezing her shoulders. It compelled her turn around and there, laid before her, was a path set within a swirling blue light—a light she had immersed herself in many times before. Without her acknowledgement, her feet began walking where the light decreed, her body no longer hers to control. She couldn't move, except to walk along that preset path, the clay hardening with every step taken. She couldn't even speak, but at least Fate permitted her tears to fall.

The well was calling for her. And she had no choice in the matter. She didn't even get to say goodbye, knowing that she'd never see her friends again.

She knew they were all alive, which helped her come to terms with her abrupt departure. Inuyasha was the only one to suffer severe damage and she didn't even get the chance to tend to his wounds. Sesshoumaru had stopped her from going to Inuyasha when he handed her the jewel immediately following Naraku's death, anxious to get the damned thing out of his hands and sparking an irreversible chain of events that neither of them could have ever predicted.

She could hardly remember what had happened as the blue magic pulled her to the well. There were voices, obviously her friends, but she didn't see them nor did she feel them. The magic wouldn't allow it. It was all a blur and somehow she ended up awakening the next morning in her bed, her shoes removed, yet her mother said she didn't know how she got in the house. Obviously, she put herself in bed as though she were in a drunken stupor, but the fact that she was at home, safely tucked under her covers, made her question if it had happened at all. Her questions were answered upon jumping in the well with the Shikon no Tama around her neck, yet the dark cover of a shed still hung above her head. She pounded the dirt with her fists and cried until she was drained, lying on the beaten ground for hours thereafter.

She knew she'd miss them when she left, but she didn't realize how empty it would be when they were forever gone.

The train slowed and the intercom resounded, the steel shuddering as it came to a screeching halt. She stood and fell in line, exiting the car with the masses that knew nothing of her troubles, of her quest or friends—people who knew nothing of _her_ and never would. This was the burden she lived with now. Nobody would ever understand and so nobody would ever truly know her because the defining time in her life would be omitted, being too fantastic to be taken as reality. But it was real; it _had _happened.

She walked out onto the sunny sidewalk, noticing a man in front of her as he removed his eyeglasses, wiping them with his white oxford shirt. A ray of sunlight filtered through the lens, creating a pretty spectrum of multi-colored light on the ground below.

She swallowed and ignored the slight burning behind her eyes. Oh, how she hated thinking of him in such a personal way. But it was unavoidable and no one was to blame but herself. After all, she was the fool who gave it to him the day they would defeat Naraku. In the end, she never had to explain it to her friends, but she knew, deep down, that Sesshoumaru would remember her, eventually. His mark adorned her family's shrine after all.

_xxx_

Having given a gift to all her friends, only one remained and she knew this gift would be the hardest to give. He would fight it, thinking he didn't know her.

"Sesshoumaru," she said quietly, trying to avoid drawing attention to them. He stopped, peering at her from over his shoulder and saying nothing. She bowed before him and offered her gift. After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke and she looked up at him, straightening her back.

"What is that?"

"A prism." He just stared at her. "It's a gift of gratitude."

"For what?"

"Helping us."

"I am only helping myself."

"That may be true, but you aid us as well, even if it is unintentionally."

"That is unnecessary. I do not desire gifts or gratitude. Your sentiments are wasted." She heard Inuyasha snort derisively; she should have known he'd be listening. He always was, even if he acted like he didn't care.

"I would be insulted if you dishonored my gift by not accepting it. I'd hate to feel indebted to you." She noticed his eyebrow arch and his jaw tighten. She knew he'd take it now.

"Of what use is this _prism_?"

"If you hold it at just the right angle, you can see the true colors that make up white light. See?" she said as she tilted the prism, capturing a sliver of light and producing a rainbow. He was intrigued, she could tell.

"_White light_?"

"White light is not as it appears to the naked eye. It's much more complex. White light embodies all of the colors, but keeps them hidden."

He took it from her and offered no thanks, but she didn't mind, knowing gratitude was foreign to him. She was just glad he accepted it.

He turned it over in his hand, looking at it with mild interest. "Why give me such a thing?"

"Because you're helping us—_have_ helped us."

"That is not what I asked."

She froze momentarily, but quickly swallowed her fear. "A wise person once told me that life is like a gray canvas. The people most important to us color that canvas. But the beauty of color is that it's multi-faceted, possessing endless nuances. There's always more to the story than we can see."

_xxx_

He said nothing after that, not even appearing startled by the repetition of his own words. That was a few months ago and like Sesshoumaru had once told her, all things faded with time, even sorrow. The injustice of Fate consumed her at first, but that righteous fury eventually degraded into the most gruesome melancholy. She was now at peace with being ousted from the Feudal Era, having had time to deal with her losses. She didn't belong there, in that time. Fate had a reason for bringing her to the past, but like Sesshoumaru had said, she would never know why. She accepted that now and realized how silly it was to think that she could travel back and forth between eras in order to maintain relationships with people who were long dead. She could disrupt the future with such careless and selfish behavior. She shouldn't have gotten her hopes up; she should've known better.

There was only so much control she exercised over her own life and Fate had already preordained the beginning and the end of her journey—this was how it was meant to be. That was how she dealt with her pain and it worked beautifully. She also thought about things Sesshoumaru had said to her about eternity and life and, secretly, his words made her feel better.

The bell chimed as she walked through the door, the smell of fresh coffee and baking sweets filling her with a sense of nostalgic warmth. She noticed a few couples sitting at scattered tables as they sipped hot drinks and indulged in exotic cakes. She smiled; she loved the atmosphere at Satsuki's.

She got in line behind a middle-aged man who held a little girl's hand as he asked her what she wanted today. Her smile grew and her eyes watered as she remembered nights when she was wrapped up in a blanket, tightly, like a butterfly waiting to burst forth from her cocoon.

"Hi, Kagome!" a woman chirped brightly, drawing her attention away from the father and daughter. "The usual?"

She smiled at the owner and nodded. Once the Feudal Era abandoned her, she decided to resurrect the old family tradition, needing a replacement comfort, and purchased an-dangos once a week. "Yep!"

"Coming right up!" Gloves on and box in hand, the woman slid open the glass display set before Kagome. She marveled at the variety and ease of choice.

"Thanks!" she responded, trying to feel as joyful as she sounded.

"I absolutely love your necklace!" the shop owner said conversationally as she wrapped Kagome's treats. "Where did you get it?"

"It's been in the family for a long time." The woman smiled as Kagome fished through her purse in search of her wallet.

"Nope, not today. All regulars are treated—on the house of course!"

"Really? Thank you, but can I ask why the special treatment?"

"As of today, we're officially _the_ owners!" That was a surprise; Kagome thought she was already the owner.

"You guys have been here for years—what do you mean you're the owners _now_?"

The woman grinned. "My mom started this place about twenty-five years ago, but within those first five years, she got into a lot of financial trouble—mismanaged funds and all that jazz. A businessman always stopped by when he was in town and somehow or another he got wind of it all. He didn't want to see the place close, so he bought us out and kept us going."

"Wow. With as much business as you guys get, I'm surprised he sold it back to you."

"Yeah, me too! A few years ago, he sold it back to us with a lean-holder provision. We just made the last payment and starting today it's official! We're free to do whatever we want! Now that it's totally ours, we can probably open a few more stores! With time of course—don't want to repeat the past."

"That's great—I'm so happy for you guys!"

The woman laughed. "Thanks, Kagome, and enjoy the desserts. See you next week?"

"Yeah, see you!"

Kagome waved goodbye and exited into the sunlight, glad that things were working out at her favorite sweets shop. Before her father died, her family had been coming to this place for years, yet they never knew that Satsuki's was in trouble of closing down. Well, maybe her mother did know, but never really thought about telling her, especially since Kagome was so young at the time.

She sighed, long and hard, as she walked through the streets toward her family's home. Her little sedan had broken down these past few months and there was no need to buy another car. Grandpa had bought it several years ago because he said he was too old to walk to the subway station. Since he didn't really go out much anymore, Kagome ended up using it to commute to school because she had a bad habit of running late. Speaking of school, she ended up flunking her exams due to depression, which came about after the well forced her home. She didn't plead for a chance to retake them knowing it was her own damn fault. Having missed so much class and staying silent about it all semester, her professors probably wouldn't have believed her anyway.

She ended up wasting her time writing that essay and mailing that scholarship submission, not to mention the money squandered on the university's admission application. There was no way Tokyo U would accept her now and that scholarship was contingent upon her acceptance into the university—the man had said so at the interview.

It had been quite a shock to receive an interview notification, saying that she was a finalist for the Aiko Scholarship. The only explanation she could think of was that there must have been a drastic decline in the applicants' merits. Yes, that had to be it. Or maybe Ayumi was right and her essay held a lot of weight, tipping the scales in her favor.

Honestly, failing should have been expected, like friends ripped apart.

Focusing on her feet, she climbed the steps home and took a moment to admire the newly built shrine. The construction was complete and they did a fine job. The Almohad Foundation even went the extra mile and had landscaping done to increase curb-side appeal. Honestly, she thought they did it to fix the gorges they had created while building; it looked like trench warfare had besieged her backyard.

The last of the garbage had been removed yesterday and she made sure to salvage a certain board from demolition. That wooden plank served as a reminder of her trials and tribulations; it grounded her and told her that that self-defining quest _had_ happened. She still didn't know how his mark had come to be there, but her grandfather made sure to inform her of the legend behind it. It was hard to accept, but beautiful nonetheless. She wished she had listened to her grandpa sooner.

It was said that four and half centuries ago, a shrine was built near the Bone Eaters' well where many priests exorcised the remains of youkai. The land was thusly considered holy. Years passed and a conflict arose between two neighboring villages. The village nearest the shrine was set aflame and to symbolize their victory, the aggressor made move to burn the shrine to the ground. Before the first torch could touch the shrine, a powerful god swooped down from the sky and extinguished the flames of every torch held by the enemy.

Some of the men fled, but most died by the hands of the angry god who then named himself protector of the shrine. He declared himself the God of the Moon, which all believed, for he wore a crescent moon upon his brow. He then bestowed the name of Higurashi upon the head priest's family so that all would know that the priest and his family were under the protection of the God of the Moon. Those blessed with the name Higurashi would live long and thrive upon this land, for they need only wait for the arrival of the moon.

Her grandpa then said that the God of the Moon's mark was put there in remembrance by previous generations. It had been a long time since the shrine was rebuilt and that's why it was underneath—obviously a mistake by a careless contractor. That was how her grandfather had summed it all up, but she remained skeptical. That mark most definitely belonged to Sesshoumaru who most definitely was not a god and who most definitely would not name her family! He didn't know about the well. Hell, she never even told him her family's name! She supposed it held some truth, as most legends do, but the extent of that truth was beyond her. The only way she'd know was to ask Sesshoumaru and that didn't seem very probable. Like Fate's plan, she'd never know.

The door was unlocked and before she had time to take off her shoes and announce her arrival, her _entire_ family greeted her in the foyer in an overly joyous fashion.

"Welcome home, Kagome!" her grandfather and mother said simultaneously as her brother captured her waist in a crushing hug.

"Huh?" Their greeting bewildered her and her confusion only grew when her mother began pouring sake into three cups. She then noticed a plate of beautifully arranged foods that were obviously purchased from a store.

"Here you go, honey!" her mother sang as her brother asked for his, finally releasing her. "Sorry, Souta, you're not old enough!"

"Mama, what's going on?"

"I propose a toast!" her mother said as she lifted her cup, her grandfather following suit. "To Kagome—my smart, hard-working little girl is now officially a university student!" They raised their cups as Kagome dropped hers, along with her prized an-dangos.

"What's the matter with you? You should be happy!" her grandfather chided as her mother ordered Souta to go get some towels.

"I think she's in shock. Kagome, dear?"

"It—it's impossible!"

"No, it's not. The letter is on the table over there. Go take a look."

"Mama, I didn't graduate from the two-year school _and_ I flunked my finals! Do you honestly think the four-year university would accept me?" Souta then came barreling into the room with a stack of _way_ too many towels, but nothing could distract her right now. "What about the money, huh? Did you forget about that? With my crappy GPA, I'll never get that scholarship!" Her frustration suddenly transformed into sadness and she thought she might cry. Oh, how she hated her own weakness!

"Sweetheart, the letter was from the Aiko Scholarship Committee. You got the scholarship and they automatically admitted you into the university because of it."

But that contradicted what the interviewer had told her. Like she was back on the train, the world sped up with a roar of charged metal pounding in her ears. She couldn't keep her eyes open without feeling dizzy, like she was looking out the window too closely as the car whizzed through sparsely lit tunnels.

"It must be a mistake," she said lowly, her eyes closed tight.

"I doubt the university makes such mistakes. Anyway, I guess you'll know for sure in a week."

"A week?" She opened her eyes, finally realizing that not looking wouldn't make it go away.

"You have to meet with someone from the psychology department a week from tomorrow. Everything will be set up then and you'll get to tour the campus. Isn't this exciting? I'm so happy for you, Kagome! It seems that things are finally starting to work out for you."

As unbelievable as it was, she didn't feel happy or overwhelmed, just burdened. It was a mistake; it _had_ to be. She'd go to that meeting to rectify their blunder, all the while feeling terribly embarrassed as they dissected her academic resume, probably internally laughing while apologizing to her profusely for giving her hope. What a nightmare! She was definitely Fate's favorite doormat.

"Here, honey, have some food. It's really delicious!"

Her stomach churned as she thought about how disappointed her mother would be when the truth was revealed, namely that her daughter was too stupid and too weak-minded to do well in school and get into a good university. She swallowed her internal anguish, knowing she'd dealt with worse, and she shoved a piece of mysterious food into her mouth. It was tasty, but her appetite fled with the emergence of a tummy turned sour with dread.

Why couldn't she be somebody else? Her mother deserved a better daughter.

**x x x**

It had been the slowest week of her life, she thought as she entered the glass door of the advisory office. She walked apprehensively to the front desk where a chipper young woman greeted her enthusiastically.

"Hi, how may I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm Higurashi Kagome and I'm here to see Ms. Fujimori. I have an appointment."

The weird look the woman gave her was not unnoticed by Kagome.

"Oh," she said curtly, her demeanor completely opposite from before. "Fujimori-sensei is out sick today." Whispers resounded through the sparsely furnished office, making Kagome doubly nervous.

"Well, can I reschedule?"

"She's booked."

"Um…for how long?" Kagome was growing very unappreciative of this woman's attitude.

"I don't know." This was getting ridiculous. She was the secretary—it was her _job_ to know!

"Maybe you should look it up then," Kagome replied, trying her best to match the woman's demeaning tone of voice, but failing miserably.

"She'll be gone for the rest of the week. You should call her next week, or the week after."

Just as Kagome was about to share her disapproval, a friendly voice spoke from behind her.

"Misa, I got this one. Higurashi-san, right?" the voice asked as a girl came up beside her. Kagome nodded, happy to get some help. "Hi," the girl said, giving a short bow. "My name is Aisawa Aya. Fujimori-sensei couldn't be here today and so she went ahead and set everything up for you and asked me to take care of you today. None of the students will know their residency assignments for another week or two, but I have the rest of your information packet here, including computer passwords and stuff so that you can go ahead and register for classes. Fujimori-sensei would have helped you with that, but since I'm a third-year psychology major I can help you set up your schedule."

"Thanks, but—"

"No problem! Now let's go tour the campus!" Aya grabbed her hand and literally drug her out of the office. Once they were down the hall, Aya let her hand go and bowed again, apologizing. "I'm sorry you were treated like that, but you got a really prestigious scholarship and some people think it's because of _who_ you know."

"I doubt that," Kagome said, looking down the painted stairwell. "But I guess they're right; I don't belong here."

"Don't say that! What I mean is that it's just a really weird coincidence that your name is Higurashi." Kagome's neck snapped up.

"What do you mean by _that_?"

"There's a Higurashi Building on campus. I'm a research assistant under Fujimori-sensei and she's on the Aiko Scholarship Committee. I asked her about it and she said that to her knowledge there was no relation."

"Are you serious?" Kagome was stunned to say the least. "I can assure you that there is _no_ connection. My family's not influential—_at all_."

Aya nodded. "That's good though, because it means that you needed the money. Some people think that you didn't and just wanted something honorary to add to your resume. They'll learn soon enough, so don't worry about it."

"This scholarship is pretty weird, huh? I mean, I just don't understand _how_ I got it."

Aya smiled as they descended the cement stairs. "I got that scholarship three years ago, so I know all about it and it _is_ really weird. You see, this really rich guy's grandfather donated a whole crap load of money to the university to start our psychology program. About a decade ago, he decided to start a scholarship program with a stipulation—the catch being that he gets to personally chose the recipient. It's even weirder because some years he passes judgment back to the committee, saying he doesn't have an opinion. It's been a few years since he's selected a recipient and that's why Misa and some others think you have a connection to him. When you think about it, the committee is really just for show. Money talks, you know."

"So…this isn't a mistake?"

Aya laughed as she opened the door for Kagome. "Nope, you were chosen by the Big Dog and if the Big Dog says so, then the university can't do a thing about it."

"Has anyone ever been accepted to the university before with…bad grades?" Kagome still couldn't accept it as _real_.

"What do you mean by _bad_? What, you got too many B's?"

Kagome gulped as she stepped onto the brick sidewalk. "Something like that."

"It's such a beautiful day! I can't believe they say it's going to rain."

"Yeah, I know. My mom made me bring this," Kagome said, jutting out her little umbrella. "It feels like I'm carrying dead weight." Aya laughed again and Kagome realized that she could get used to that sound. She really missed having friends.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Aya exclaimed as she handed a large white envelope to Kagome. "That's your info packet. It's got a copy of your acceptance letter, computer passwords, personal info, university policies, blah, blah, and your scholarship info, like how much you get per semester and the Big Dog's info in case he decides to show up at the ceremony."

"Ceremony?"

"Every year the university has this stupid banquet to honor all the scholarship winners. Usually the donors show up or send a representative to sit at a big table and eat fancy foods. They'll shake your hand and stuff. It's really pointless, but it's rude if you don't show up. But it's not rude if the donor doesn't show. The Big Dog never comes, but you should read about his company just in case he does. You might be embarrassed if you don't."

"Why do you call him the 'Big Dog'?"

"It's a running joke in the psychology department. The Big Dog has two main companies that oversee all his endeavors. One is a charity branch, called something Stars, and the other, which is the cash cow, is called Red Dog, Inc. So, we call him the Big Dog since he's loaded."

"I see," Kagome said with a little giggle. At least she knew there'd be some fun people in her department. _Her_ department… The reality of attending Tokyo U had yet to sink in. It all seemed too surreal, like it would fade away at any moment. And Kagome didn't want to get used to it, not when it could be pulled from beneath her feet, leaving her to freefall from hope.

"There's the courtyard where the students like to hang out," Aya said while pointing to a massive open area filled with tables and benches, flanked by trees and flowers. "All the good places to eat are on the other side of it. Kind of hard to see from here, but we'll go over there later to grab a bite. The building we just left is the Takahashi Building, which is the psychology department's main building, obviously named after the Big Dog's family. There's a Takahashi in my year who says she ought to get some money out of him! Like Takahashi isn't one of _the_ most common names!"

Kagome laughed as a silver truck pulled at her attention, like it didn't belong there.

"Oh, the building with your name is over there!" That statement superceded the perceived importance of a silver truck. She had been so attentive while listening to why people she didn't know held a grudge against her that she had almost forgotten that odd yet coincidental tidbit. It was kind of fun though, and her family would get a kick out of it!

"Which one?"

"The pretty building over there is the Higurashi Building. If you decide to focus your major on the dynamics of memory or the personality, then you'll be seeing a lot of that building. What a coincidence, huh?"

She stared, mouth agape at the enormous building, her family's name adorning the front in chrome characters. There were strange sculptures in the grassy plot set before the structure, giving it a whimsical feel. Stone-laden children were poised to run, as if playing a game. She felt the need to get closer to that building so that she could take a more thorough look.

"Aya!" an unknown boy yelled, running toward them.

"Damn," her tour guide said under her breath. "This is going to take a few minutes, so go ahead and take a look around. Let's meet in the courtyard, okay?"

Before Kagome could reply, Aya was running off to that boy. Kagome looked at the courtyard, noting its immense size, and wondered how on earth she was going to find Aya amongst all those people. Sighing to herself, she decided she'd wait at least ten minutes before entering the crowded space. Maybe she should go take a closer look at the Higurashi Building. Her mother was _not_ going to believe her!

The building was lovely with a clean, traditional design, yet the metallic beams were left exposed, giving it a more contemporary feel. There were lots of windows, each having a unique veneer that was multi-colored in the sunshine, the shade changing depending on the viewing angle.

Curiosity took advantage of her and she decided to have a look inside. Wood and metal beams were left strategically exposed and all sorts of artwork adorned the halls in inlaid shelves. The building was impressive and she could see herself wanting to take nothing but classes offered in this building just so she could see its beauty everyday.

She stopped by a showcase of abstract art, seeing what it would become, when a disgruntled voice distracted her from her mental exercise. Something about the voice relaxed her and she couldn't help but listen.

"This is the wrong building! Where is _that_ building? Oh, you don't know. Where do I find a map? This is absurd! I'll meet you. _Where_? I'm glad you're tall. You know, I hope she's worth it." A man rounded the corner where she just happened to be standing as she eavesdropped while pretending to admire the art in the shiny glass case. He ran into her as he clicked a cell phone shut.

He pushed her into the sharp edge of the display case, forcing the air out of her lungs; she was sure she'd find a bruise there in a few hours. He backed away immediately as she slowly dropped to the floor, trying to adjust to the biting pain. Suddenly, a hand grasped the underside of her arm, lifting her to her feet as she regained her breath.

"You should be more careful, Higurashi-san," he said calmly, no hint of apology in his tone, as she gathered her bearings.

"Excuse me? You're the one that ran into me! Turning that corner like a—"

She never gave this man her name.

She turned around, slowly taking in the tall frame of a handsome man. His shoulders were wide, tapering down into a strong waistline, his hands now hidden in corduroy pockets. He had shaggy brown hair and beautiful green eyes, lined with delicate brows. His jaw was excessively squared and his lips thin, wearing a devious half-smile. The intensity of his eyes made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, though she was positive she had never met this man before.

"How do you know my name?" His lip twitched as though he wanted to smile more fully, but wouldn't permit himself.

"I know a lot about you, Higurashi-san. You're the reason I'm here today." His voice was smooth and calm, similar to another voice she had once known, but this one was livelier, more prone to relay emotion. In all actuality, he sounded playful, which set him worlds apart from the one she was thinking about.

"What—what do you mean?"

"Do you think your academic performance got you accepted into this university?" He still sounded playful, but damn rude too.

Wait—he knew about her sub-par grades. Just who was this man?

"I honestly have no idea why they accepted me. I thought it was mistake. Pardon my bluntness, but just how do you know that?"

"I know a lot," he said cryptically, his eyes scanning her almost intimately, like an artist tracing lines to be painted later. "I also know that a brand new library can get just about anyone accepted into this institution."

"What?" Confused couldn't even begin to describe what she was feeling.

"I'm here to survey the site for the new library. The construction is supposed to start by the beginning of next year."

"Are—are you implying that someone _bought_ my way into this university?" She couldn't even begin to grasp _that_ concept. No one outside her family cared about her future and more importantly, she didn't know any rich people!

"Exactly." His condescending tone was entirely too familiar for her liking. She just stared at him, her mind turning slowly, like a watermill.

Outside, a cloud must have moved because a ray of light filtered in through the window, slipping over the man's face. His brown hair shimmered with a pronounced red undertone, like it had just caught on fire. The light slid further down, over his eyes, making the previously vibrant green turn pale and ugly. In her mind, a light flickered on, the mill steadily rotating, keeping it strong.

"Kazuma." The name slipped before she could think better of it.

He smiled fully this time, the line of his jaw softening. "No—his son."

She vaguely recalled Sesshoumaru mentioning a cousin and she clearly recalled an out of place truck. It was silver.

"You—you're from the Almohad Foundation!" Her head was spinning, making it difficult to see what was in front of her. She felt like she was trapped in a sandstorm.

"Yes, but today it's the Hitomi Project. My father would be most displeased to know that his son has been traveling around under the name of a man he once despised." She didn't even bother to ask all the questions filling her mind as her knees began to quiver. _This_ was no coincidence—_this_ building was named after _her_. The odd statutes suddenly made sense and everything became too much.

"I suppose he never really spoke of me. Figures. He didn't spend much time with me when I was young."

"Ichimaru—your name is Ichimaru." He nodded, his smile finally dimming into a mere smirk.

There was a youkai standing before her, yet she couldn't _feel_ a youkai. "I can't—I can't feel you."

"Would you like to?" She stared at him, flabbergasted, and he smiled, wider. Her eyes focused on his forehead like something should be there, but she couldn't see it. "I can feel _you_ a mile away, miko. Magic is rare these days," he said lowly as he tugged the chain hung loosely around her neck. She backed away from him, pressed against glass and metal. He laughed, heartily, and she realized then that she had never once heard Sesshoumaru laugh. And she wanted to, she _really _wanted to.

"There is no reason to fear me. _He_ would kill me."

"Sesshoumaru," she whispered, the name feeling like honey, sweet and thick, on her tongue. "I—I don't understand…any of this!"

"Is it so hard? He never forgot you."

"Then why did he pretend that he did?" she asked desperately, anger rising, though shock remained prevalent. Those students were right; she didn't deserve that scholarship. She only got it because of _who_ she knew. "Why is he doing all this…for me?" It was no wonder she continuously received those applications in the mail.

"That is something you would have to ask him yourself." His eyes finally left hers and he looked out the window. "This was a pleasant, though unexpected surprise, Higurashi-san, but I must be going now. I would hate to be tardy." He turned quickly and headed down the hall.

"Wait!" she called after him, but he never slowed. "Tell me where to find him!"

"You should be going as well, Higurashi-san. I hope you brought an umbrella."

"Please!" she begged. He paused, momentarily.

"The courtyard is rather lovely today. You should go have a look, Higurashi-san," he said as he glanced at her one last time, immediately resuming his pace.

For a moment, she was frozen still; the words Almohad and Hitomi echoing in her mind. She knew the latter without thinking twice, but she wondered if the name Almohad had any significance to Sesshoumaru.

She couldn't think and realizing her own stupidity, she took off in search of Sesshoumaru's cousin. She ended up outside again and he was nowhere in sight. Her eyes scanned the vast open spaces, finding nothing, leaving her in a state of abysmal emptiness. He had her answers, but he was making her go to the source. But where _exactly_ was the source?

"The ceremony," she said to herself as she ripped open her student packet. She quickly found the scholarship tab and the first page she came upon was information on the 'Big Dog'. She read, the pieces locking into place like a key sliding into a deadbolt, turning with an audible click.

'The Takahsahi Family's success is the result of hard work and market foresight. Their fortune began with risky, high profile investments in the auto industry.'

"_There are cars, which are basically motorized horse carriages—no four-legged mammals required."_

'With an increased net worth, the Takahashi Family would later invest heavily in the emerging electronics industry…'

"…_Machines that are programmed to make…"_

She swallowed, wondering just how far the extent of her meddling ran.

'The Takahashi Family oversees two main companies. _Red Dog, Incorporated_ is a major financial institution that provides services in banking, investing and economic consulting.'

"_Tell me what a copyright is, Kagome."_

She suddenly remembered a missing economics book, no longer questioning its whereabouts.

'_Save the Stars_ is a philanthropic organization headed by the Takahashi Family. This organization oversees the activities of several charitable groups, while providing the majority of their funding from a percentage of Red Dog, Inc.'s profits…'

"_Inaction will cost you the stars."_

Her mind was turning, but it sped out of control as she read further along.

'Almohad Foundation – aims to preserve structures of cultural and religious importance.'

"_My father would be most displeased to know that his son has been traveling around under the name of a man he once hated." _

Almohad was an Arabic word.

"_There was a youkai named Maurus, but that was not his real name. He was a traveler from a land called Africana. He loved culture and religion and my uncle hated him."_

She read on, more memories divulged, but she was one of the few that could actually see them.

'Goshiboku Alliance – aids industries in finding environmentally friendly solutions while saving the forests of Japan, one tree at a time.'

"_There aren't as many trees…"_

The God Tree—_her_ tree—still stood. And _he_ knew it. It was how she'd meet his brother.

"_My brother was bound to a tree. Do you think I wouldn't find out why?"_

'Hitomi Project – aims to eliminate ignorance by pursuing the widespread and equitable distribution of education among the Japanese populace.'

"_Hitomi could not come to terms with my claws"_

'The General's Sons – provides free child care in select areas for disadvantaged single parents having difficulties managing work and family.'

"_My father was never there."_

She wondered if this meant he had finally forgiven his father. She wanted to ask him, to know, but most of all she wanted to _hear_ him _say_ it. She tried to remember what his voice sounded like, and though she thought she'd never forget, the clarity had dimmed, making her wilt in despair. That thought, however, was immediately ousted upon recalling her previous words; forged in the spirit of conversation and spoken in the custom of heedlessness.

"_There's little time for broadening horizons and planting saplings when you got to work for eight-plus hours after shuttling the kids off to school, only to come home to cook and clean. It's exhausting!"_

What had she done? Perhaps this was why Fate was so unkind, forcing her permanently through well—it _knew_ of her carelessness. She had to read more, to know _exactly_ what she had done.

'White Stone Memorial Hospital – aims to advance medical research in varying disciplines while aiding the proliferation of quality healthcare to all.'

"_Lucky me got a position at White Stone Memorial, which is like the research hospital in all of Japan."_

She concentrated on her breathing, wondering how much the future had been altered by her brief reprieve from duty while staying with Sesshoumaru. But what was the meaning behind White Stone and why would Sesshoumaru get Ayumi an internship? She tried hard to find the connection, but she was too muddled to think. It was all too much.

Instead of wielding mystical blades, he was buying out stocks. Although it was obvious she unintentionally helped his net worth soar, it was no surprise that Sesshoumaru would walk the modern path of power. Knowing that, however, did little good right now. Her anger was budding and she couldn't stomp it down. Did he think she was a charity case? She _really_ needed to have a chat with that meddling taiyoukai! But how would she find him?

"_I'll meet you… I'm glad you're tall…"_

Ichimaru was meeting someone and he didn't want to be late.

"_The courtyard is rather lovely today. You should go have a look, Higurashi-san."_

Wrinkling the smooth papers with a fisted hand, Kagome ran toward the bustling courtyard. Lost in a sea of dark hair and denim, she twirled around and stood on the tips of her toes, wondering if her hunch was right. But Fate was never so kind.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, she saw him.

His hair was still silver and he was still tall, so tall that he stood above the passing students, enabling her to see him. She noticed then that his hair was shorter, ending just past his shoulders, and the top half of it was pulled back to keep it out of his face. She thought it odd at first that he'd restrain his hair since Sesshoumaru was a creature that prized his freedom, but she figured that it was more professional that way. His back was turned to her, but in between the arms and legs that strode past, she could make out a coal-colored suit.

She wanted to call out to him, but she couldn't find the words. She wanted to see his face. His back went rigid and she finally realized that both of his sleeves were filled.

The sky suddenly darkened and her skin prickled at her neck, spreading like a wildfire down her arms and to her legs. He was finally looking at her, intensely, like he used to. And he looked the same, just as beautiful as ever, except his face was clear of any markings bestowed by blood. She wanted to see that moon that graced her home.

His hands were in his pockets and his stance relaxed a bit, but she was probably the only person alive that could see it. A rain drop fell onto the tip of her nose and then another, the two of them staring at each other, only meters apart, yet it felt like an eternity separated them.

A group of students passed between them, the top of Sesshoumaru's silvery head the only thing she could see. Another raindrop fell. When she saw him again, she saw a white kosode and hakamas lined in red. Frightening armor rested against his chest, bound by leather straps, a sword at his side. That was how she would always see him even though the majority of the time she spent with him he wore a pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt. He was too godly for that, too otherworldly to be remembered by such an image. Inuyasha was her indisputable God of War and though Sesshoumaru was known to her family as the God of the Moon, he was her God of Destiny, proving that second chances did exist, redemption was possible and Fate could be lenient.

The sky moaned, unable to hold the rain back, but still she couldn't move or speak, her umbrella hanging limply in her hand. Bodies continued to pass between them as the rain fell, when suddenly, people stopped and propped open their umbrellas, the plastic canopies obscuring his image. She couldn't see him anymore.

Finding her legs, she pushed through the crowd, running toward him, but like history predicted, he was gone. She spun around, her eyes searching but coming up empty. He was gone, again.

He was her link to the past, to a time in her life where she was considered smart and called heroic. She didn't want to forget—to be the only one to know—that at one time, she held her own, that _she_ was once the center. She didn't want to lose her link to the ages, searching, but never finding, never knowing where it went.

Clouds parted, and though the rain still fell, sunlight found the earth—found her. A rainbow, barely visible, streaked brokenly across the sky and she wondered if she'd ever see Sesshoumaru again.

Only time would tell, she knew, but unlike him, she didn't have forever.

**x x x**

**A/N: To those of you who are interested, I've posted the "labels" from the previous chapter in my live journal. There's a link in my profile.**

**One chapter left! The epilogue will be posted in 1-2 weeks.**


	26. Epilogue

**This story received 3rd Place in the IYFG for Best Characterization (Character: Sesshoumaru)! Thanks to all of you who voted for it!**

**A/N:** Sorry for the long delay, but all hell broke loose in my life these past few weeks. I may not be married, but I just went through a nasty divorce! Hopefully, you won't hold it against me because this is it, guys! I want to thank you all for reading and I especially want to thank those of you who thought highly enough of my work to leave me comments telling me how I was doing or blessing me with encouragement. Your words are a gift to me—my reward for writing. (A special thanks goes out to **GoldAngel2**,** Ivykitra**,** Risa **and **ElegantPaws** for being super inspiring this go-round.) Some of you have been following this story since the beginning and never gave up on me—thank you for the bottom of my heart. You guys are so special to me. This story has been a fantastic voyage for me. I feel like I have grown so much as a writer throughout the course of this story and I have had so much fun writing it and reading your reviews. You guys made this possible and I hope you are satisfied with the ending. You will see more from me and I hope that I have made a great enough impression to keep you coming back for more. Again, thank you.

On a fun note, I'd like to pat **Tana-san** and **Ivykitra **on the back for their keen foresight and **linyun**, a.k.a. **SangoShadowphoenix**, for correctly guessing the meaning behind White Stone Memorial.

All of you guys rock my world!

**Temporal Sequence**

**Epilogue:**

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_**X precedes Y.**_

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Silently, she wished it were daylight as structures slid past her window, the streetlights doing little justice to the wondrous sites. She had never been to Kyoto before and from what little she could see, it was rustically beautiful; overflowing with character, making it far different from the bustling Tokyo, where bright lights and neon signs highlighted anonymous skyscrapers.

"Where'd you come from, miss?" the taxi driver asked conversationally, momentarily disrupting her exploration of the scenery.

"Tokyo," she replied, her eyes still seeking the culture that the capital had seemingly forgotten.

"Wow, that's a long way."

"Yeah, it took eight hours and four trains to get here."

"A man, huh?"

She sighed, still looking out the window. "What makes you think that?"

"You came all the way from Tokyo on the local trains with no luggage. What else could it be?"

"Lots of things," she said, unconvincingly, as the world outside seemed to darken just a bit more. It was a shame; there was so much to see.

"He must be pretty special," the driver said off-handily. She finally looked away from the streets outside that she could hardly see and took a good look at the driver. He was a very petite man with slender hands and a voice much too deep for his stature. Oddly, she wondered if he was a father.

"More like _especially_ insufferable." Actually, it felt good to talk. When it came to Sesshoumaru, there was no one who'd understand. But maybe, just maybe, a stranger could fill that gap, for a moment at least.

The driver laughed; a warming sound. "He's got you all flustered, eh?"

She snorted, openly. "He's an egotistical jerk!"

"What man isn't?"

She smiled, thoughts of Inuyasha and Kouga resurfacing for the first time in weeks. At last, it didn't hurt to think of them.

"Well, as true as that may be, this one doesn't try to hide it one bit."

"Would you prefer that he did?" Her eyes returned to the passing roadside, noticing her reflection in the window, like a ghost lurking within the glass pane.

"No, but he's so frustrating. I haven't _really _spoken to him in over a year and then I find out that he's done all these really nice things for me. It makes me happy and mad at the same time."

"Why?"

The world outside her boxed window had been reduced to nothingness as her reflection conquered the vast spaces. She could see the blackness beyond streamline as the car pushed on, but it was fleeting, her image replacing it as soon as the next plane came into view.

"Because I wanted to do things on my own," she said softly as a streetlight passed, obscuring her image with an onslaught of yellowish light.

"Maybe that's why he did it behind your back; he wanted things to be easier for you. Tokyo's a tough place."

"Maybe, but…he never came to see me. Maybe this trip will end up being a waste. Maybe he doesn't want to see me at all."

"You said he did a lot of nice things for you, so why do you think he wouldn't want to see you?" The cab veered right as she glanced at the rearview mirror. His eyes were downcast, looking at the road, a fierce look of concentration on his face. The driver now looked older, wiser, and suddenly, she missed having a father.

"Honestly, I have no idea how he feels about me."

"Things are pretty complicated between you two, huh?"

She smiled faintly, recalling her red-clad hero. "Once upon a time, I was in love with his brother." His eyes glanced up to the mirror, looking at her, and she noted his surprise. This was why she didn't talk about it.

"Wow. What happened with that?"

"It wasn't meant to be."

"So you think he's avoiding you because of that?"

She felt foolish then, like she had during the entirety of the train ride. What if Sesshoumaru wasn't home? What would she do then? Ayumi was in Kyoto, but she had no idea where to find her. Since she couldn't afford the bullet train, she was in a hurry to get on the next available train as soon as possible, knowing the trip would amount to nearly eight hours. Therefore, it was no surprise she didn't jot down Ayumi's number, nor did she consider giving her a call beforehand. Hell, she didn't even bring a change of clothes!

But most importantly, what if Sesshoumaru really _was_ avoiding her? Like Aya had said, the _Big Dog_ didn't even show up at the banquet.

"I don't know. I had to threaten his cousin to get his address. I think he didn't want me to find him, but I need to see him. I have questions that only he can answer."

"Like why he did all those things for you?"

"Yeah, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that this might be a mistake. I don't want to pressure him or cause him problems. He probably just thinks of me as a burden."

Selfishly, she also wanted to know what had happened to her friends. At the same time, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She liked to believe that they all led happy lives and got everything they had ever wanted, but now wasn't the time to ask such things. There was a difference between wanting and needing, and right now, she _needed_ to know _why_ Sesshoumaru did the things he did.

On that note, why was _he_ bothering her so much?

"I doubt that. He wouldn't have done anything for you if that was the case."

That was true, but she _wanted_ to hear _him_ say it. That _he_ cared about _her_.

Another light flew past, her image fleeing as frustration found her. "Then why didn't he come to see me? Why did he keep these things from me, making me think I was all alone?"

"I don't know this guy, but maybe, because of your weird history, he was waiting for you to come to him."

The car stopped at a light; it was red, a vibrant red. When she was first ousted from the Feudal Era, all she could think about was her friends and how much she'd miss them. Ultimately, she was thinking about herself and how empty _her_ life would be without them. Then, after she came to terms with it all, she thought about herself even more, like any good narcissist should. All she thought about was Kagome. Thoughts of friends vanished into the dark corners of her mind, concern webbing over as wonderment of the future occupied the spotlight—wonderment of _her_ future.

And all it took was one student packet, mostly filled with frivolous things, to make her forget. That knot of dread that had always lingered in the pit of her stomach concerning her friends had uncoiled so fast that she could hardly remember that it had ever existed.

All that mattered was _her _future and _her_ wants. Had she really become that self-absorbed?

The car moved forward with a jut, her reflection returning, and she realized then that she had never stopped and tried to look at things from Sesshoumaru's perspective. It was possible that he did those things for her and her family as reimbursement for the things she had done for him, namely taking care of him when he was injured and giving him priceless information about the future. But he saved her family's shrine one war-torn day, hundreds of years ago. That was repayment in itself. She honestly didn't understand any of it, and it was driving her crazy.

"…_He was waiting for you to come to him."_

But, once upon a time, she had loved his brother.

"_All things fade with time."_

Was he waiting? Five hundred years was a long time to wait, but maybe, at least for Sesshoumaru, that was nothing.

"_They say a herder never looks his sheep in the eye. Do you know why?"_

He could hide it, but it would always be there, like a memory of red, signaling him to stop, to reevaluate until it turned. Maybe not all things could be killed by will alone.

"_Because he can't stand the thought of knowing the beasts only to kill them."_

She always looked him in the eye. He knew this. He had called her on it the one day she couldn't look into his eyes—eyes that were too beautiful for her to behold, too distant for her to see. Like a timeless sword, he was one of a kind, far too priceless for her hands to touch. That much she knew.

A light turned yellow and the cab sped up, bypassing the intersection, a glow of red washing over her for the briefest of moments. But just like that, it was gone.

Sometimes, even an eternity wasn't long enough to prove oneself—not when the shining moments were always missed, or unseen, like beautiful buildings under dull streetlights.

"He really is special," she said faintly, fondly.

"I figured that much."

"He just might be the first man to ever wait for me." She thought of Hojou briefly, but he wasn't the same and eventually, he did give up, though the density of his head was much to blame for _that_ 'waiting' period. But Sesshoumaru knew everything and still he waited, half a millennium, proving in the most powerful of ways that maybe, just maybe, not all things had an expiration date.

"Here it is."

The cab stopped, pulling her attention to the window; a simple building, maybe five or six stories high, stood unobtrusively off the street, an elegant streetlamp giving it an old world glow. Suddenly, she became nervous. She clutched the slip of paper to her palm, realizing she had been holding it the entire time since she left Tokyo. Like the photo shop receipt, it was of vital importance to her.

"What if he's not home? I don't have his phone number."

The driver turned around then, facing her with a bright smile. "Then wait for him. He did it for you, right? It's warm outside."

"But…"

"Wait for him. It's easier than you think. Just wait for him."

She nodded, glancing at the meter as she pulled her wallet from her purse, taking out a few bills. "Thank you," she said as she handed it to him.

"No thanks needed. I like to talk. It makes the job go by faster." She smiled and stepped out of the car, bowing briefly as she swallowed her fear. "Good luck," he said as she shut the door, his voice muffled, yet deeply reassuring. She waved as he drove off, wondering what she was going to say to Sesshoumaru.

She walked up to the door and immediately noticed the key pad and intercom. Security was to be expected, but the intercom's buttons confused her. Ichimaru had told her that Sesshoumaru was currently residing on the top floor of this location. She counted six levels, but the buttons ended at the fifth floor, the latter only having one, whereas the other floors had several. She stepped back and counted again. There were indeed six and so she assumed the fifth floor's only intercom button would take her to Sesshoumaru. Unlike the other metal pushbuttons, however, there was no name next to it. It _had_ to be his.

She pushed it, hearing a short buzz, and waited—_nothing_. She pushed it again, smoothing out the leaflet in her hand, looking at the scribbled characters once more. Again, there was no response and she became doubly anxious, her courage slipping as the silence mounted. Knowing Sesshoumaru, he probably didn't like visitors, or maybe, he really was on the sixth floor and disabled the intercom to avoid _having_ visitors. So what was she supposed to do—chuck a rock at a sixth floor window?

She felt overwhelmed as she looked through the glass door leading to a bare hallway. Having acquired such wealth, she really didn't expect him to be living in such a place. Then again, Ichimaru had said he was _currently_ residing here, so maybe he had more than one home. Still, it was hard to imagine, but she had never seen where he lived five hundred years ago. But she had always known that he was a wanderer.

"Um…excuse me, miss, but are you lost?" a soft voice asked, pulling her mind back to reality. It was boy. He looked about her age, but frightfully short. He seemed friendly though, and Kyoto didn't feel very dangerous.

"I'm here to see someone, but I guess he's not here. I came all the way from Tokyo and so I don't know what to do. I guess I'll just have to wait."

"Do you know his apartment number?"

She looked at the crumpled paper again and felt like a moron. Ichimaru only wrote down the floor, not the unit. "No. I was told he was on the top floor." The boy looked startled but quickly regained his composure with a lop-sided smile.

"That's because the top two floors aren't really apartments. The man who owns this place reserved the top two floors for himself and rented the rest out to art students. He seems so pretentious, but I can't complain 'cause the rent's dirt-cheap! This is so cool! I hardly ever see him and when I do, I always say hello, but he just ignores me. Even though he's so good-looking, I never thought I'd see the day when a woman came to see him!"

Kagome just stared as the boy grinned like a clown. Was he happy about being on the receiving end of Sesshoumaru's cold shoulder? She shivered just thinking about it. Well, at least she had the right place.

"Oh, sorry…um…you're not like his sister or anything, are you?"

Kagome smiled, feeling more comfortable now. She refused to believe, however, that her newfound comfort had anything to do with Sesshoumaru's faithful abandonment of his old philandering ways.

"No, just a friend."

"Oh, okay, that's cool. Here, I'll let you in and you can go upstairs and wait for him. There's no elevator so you'll have to walk five flights."

"That's fine. And thank you. I wasn't thrilled about waiting outside."

"Well, you are a girl," he said casually as he waved a plastic card in front of the metal pad. She ignored his stupid comment as the light blinked green, granting them access to the drab whitewashed corridor. "There's the stairs," he said, pointing to the immediate right. "Hope he doesn't keep you waiting too long."

"Thanks."

"Oh, miss?" She paused, waiting patiently. "What's his name?"

A smile coaxed its way onto her lips as she remembered a quiet, contemplative man who never liked to share his life's secrets. He would read by a fire and ask questions under the stars. It would seem he was one of the few exceptions to time, never needing to truly reveal himself, for few could ever understand as magic was myth and time was linear.

"Sesshoumaru—his name is Sesshoumaru."

"What about his family's name? I don't want to be rude."

Sesshoumaru may not present himself honestly, but he didn't lie and Takahashi was _not_ his name. Sesshoumaru was his name, and once, hundreds upon hundreds of years ago, he vowed never to leave it behind.

"Just call him Sesshoumaru. You can tell him Kagome told you so."

The boy looked affronted and she smiled wider. Excitedly, she jogged up the stairs, never looking back. Her anticipation grew with each step taken and she couldn't contain it no matter how hard she tried.

The stairwell ended at the fifth floor. She noticed the painted brick walls and industrial-like beams as she approached the only door. It was a simple oak door and suddenly, her lungs felt constricted as her heart raced. Trying to ignore the telltale signs of anxiety, she raised her hand to knock, but froze, the red light flashing in her mind.

She waited for it to turn.

Her hand hung suspended between the wooden door and her frozen body, finding herself stiff with uncertainty. What if Sesshoumaru had a reason for not seeking her out? Maybe he'd be unhappy about her visit. Maybe he wanted nothing to do with her, having already repaid his debt with new shrines and scholarships. Perhaps that was all it was—repayment for information that made him rich.

For a moment, she wanted to cry, until she remembered why she was here. Sesshoumaru owed her some answers and by the gods she was going to get them! Her fear was then replaced by frustration and she slammed her fist repetitively upon the door.

There was no answer, no footsteps, but Sesshoumaru had always been deathly silent. She knocked again and again, and still there was nothing. She placed her palm on the cool wood and breathed deeply, the tail end of her inhalation broken and ragged. She came all the way to Kyoto for nothing. But Sesshoumaru was here, at this address. Maybe she could look up Ayumi and stay the night with her so that she could return tomorrow and try again. Yes, that could work.

But it was already past ten and she felt so lost. But she wanted to see him.

Feeling overwhelmed and foolish, the cab driver's words vanishing like a reflection in a light-splayed window, Kagome lost her nerve. She straightened her back intent on leaving, uncertainty and ignorance breeding an unconquerable doubt. Before she could turn around to leave, however, a chill ran down her spine, rousing goosepimples on her neck and arms. Nostalgia claimed her breath.

Her hopeless thoughts fled as her skirt swished with a subtle brush, a large shadow unfolding across the oaken door. There was someone right behind her and she could literally _feel _his heat. He had always been insanely hot, scalding. He didn't say anything right away and neither did she; she wanted him to have the first words for once and honestly, she didn't know what to say. He took those first words, and finally, she heard that unforgettable voice that had haunted her dreams in broken snippets, begging to be pieced back together, like her favorite song struggling to be read from a scratched disc.

It seemed that she would finally have her three and half minutes.

"Tell me, Kagome, is Fate predetermined?" She saw his shadow move across the wood, shortening. He moved closer and the air grew thicker, not wanting to be hers. "Or do our decisions create its course?" She was immovable, though she wanted to see his face, but she feared distorting the illusion. Deception could be beautiful, she realized.

But she wanted to hear him speak again, like he had never known silence.

"I guess we'll never know," she replied quietly, lamely, awaiting his voice, hoping it was real.

She felt him move though he wasn't touching her. A moment passed and a small clink of metal was heard as his arm brushed across her side ever so lightly. She looked down and watched as he slid a key into the lock, turning it slowly. His chest pressed gently against her shoulder as he pushed the door open and she knew then that there was no illusion to dispel. Maybe reality could be beautiful, too, despite life's preference for ugliness.

She closed her eyes as he stood fully.

"Would you prefer that we speak in the hall?"

She opened her eyes and stepped into the dark room, feeling malleable against him, as she was still too afraid to look at him. But she always looked at him, except for that one time when she first realized that he was a man, a beautiful, strong man, cloaked in anger and desperately seeking indifference. A façade of perfection that only she could discern.

A dim, yellowish light snapped on and she took a good look at his apartment, which again, she found surprising. But he was always so full of surprises. The walls were painted a twilight blue and books were stacked against one wall, almost completely engulfing it. A simple futon laid neatly in one corner, a paper-strewn desk in another. A traditional screen separated the room from what she presumed to be the kitchen. None of his possessions conveyed any sense of affluence. It was so simple and clean, and so obviously lonely. She hated the thought of him being alone almost as much as she hated his silence.

She turned around and looked at him then.

Though his voice had dimmed in her memory during their months apart, she had never forgotten, not even one bit, how beautiful her God of Destiny had always been.

His hair was unbound and his markings were gone. He wore loose fitting khakis and a white button-up shirt; it was casual, but he wore it professionally, reminding her of a time when he made battle armor look like regal fashion.

"What happened to your markings?" she asked, realizing his eyes were still golden.

He said nothing as he walked past her, making her gulp in fear, or maybe anticipation—she couldn't tell the difference. She watched as he picked up a bottle of water and a cloth from a small bedside table. She watched curiously as he wiped his face, magenta stripes slowly bleeding through a thick layer of make-up.

"They attract too much attention and so I conceal them."

She stared as he recapped the bottle, noticing his short, dulled claws. "And your claws?"

"I cut them. Everyday."

"Your ears?"

"My hair hides them. It is rare that someone notices and if they do, I say I inherited them from my father. Genetic anomalies silence curious questions."

"Is that how you explain your hair and eyes?" She sounded like a five-year-old with all these trifling questions. She liked to think of it as her version of the Socratic method.

"Yes. It is too troublesome to hide them. Being youkai, I dislike hair dyes and contacts. I _could_ withstand them, but I chose not to. It is enough that I hide what I am. I will not hide my appearance as well."

"How does your nose handle this world?" It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, like they had never left that clearing.

"_I must adapt."_

She thought about the things he had said then, at that time, and remembered how Sesshoumaru had always managed to swim with the tide without ever turning against it.

"I have adapted," he said casually as he dropped his keys on the nightstand.

She stilled, realizing she heard his answer before he spoke it. She wondered what that meant.

"Was your trip comfortable?" Funny, but she could tell he really didn't care.

"As comfortable as expected." Anxiety vied for her compliance then. She tried to turn it away, knowing that indifference was part of the façade.

"I see my cousin has been meddling." She looked at him, closely, and her nervousness melted away with the onset of a sly grin.

"Well, I threatened to make an announcement in his office if he didn't comply." Sesshoumaru looked at her inquisitively, a single brow rising minutely. She smiled wider. "I was going to tell everyone that he knocked me up and refused to take care of me and the baby. There was only one way to shut me up and that was to tell me where to find you."

The left corner of his mouth twitched, her heart fluttering as she silently prayed he'd smile fully. He didn't, but that was to be expected. He denied himself so much.

"He has always been weak toward females. Tell me, Kagome, does your character reflect that of your mother?"

Startled by his question, she took a moment to think about it as she appreciated the pretty pottery adorning the few mounted shelves.

"In a way, yes, but I'm not as kind as my mother. I'm quicker to anger and not nearly as calm. But I try to be like her."

He nodded, slightly. "Perhaps it is those of us with questionable role models that are skeptical to emulate."

"Ichimaru's not like his father, huh?"

"No. Ichimaru likes to be surrounded by people and so he is the one that remains visible in our endeavors."

"So you pull the strings behind the scenes?"

"More or less." He continued standing in place, rigidly, as she stared, suddenly feeling the need to do something with her hands. She noticed the pottery again.

"That's really pretty pottery. Where did you get it?"

"I made it."

"You…made it?"

"I bore easily."

"Is that why you created your company and all those charities?"

"More or less."

"Sesshoumaru, the Capitalist," she said mockingly, not quite sure what to make of it. "I guess it makes sense since money equates to power in this era, but thinking back to things you said, I must admit that I'm a little surprised."

She wondered if he'd ever tire of walking the path of conquest. Eternity could run out before that road ended.

"Why is that?"

"Because of all the greedy humans," she replied plainly.

"It was unavoidable. Ichimaru has accompanied me for a long time now. We traveled the world together, but Japan has always been home. The forests disappeared, like you had said, and soon it became obvious that we could not live comfortably outside of human society."

"Why not?"

"Currency became too central."

"I never gave you that book, you know."

"I was merely borrowing it."

"Some people call that stealing."

"Knowing how the world would change, I assumed it to be of use, whereas it would be of no use to you, seeing as how you had already completed that course."

"Wanted money and power, huh? Sounds greedy," she chided as he shifted his weight.

"No, just a way to live comfortably while being far removed from human society. Money grants many privileges. I could be indisposed for months at a time and no one would notice or care."

"You don't run your own companies?" She noticed his jaw roll and realized how much she missed that small, seemingly insignificant mannerism.

"In a sense I do, but I can do it away from bothersome people. Ichimaru doesn't need an office in Tokyo. He simply wanted one. I have employees that take care of the day-to-day activities. If that were not the case, then I'd have no need of such assets."

It was no wonder that boy called him pretentious, but it was a big wonder that she was finding his pretension attractive. People always said that nice guys came in last and maybe she was contributing to that assertion.

However, she didn't come here to appreciate Sesshoumaru's flaunted snobbishness, as much fun as that may be. She came for answers. Knowing him as she did, she knew he'd give them to her. She'd just have to see through some of them.

"Why'd you give me that scholarship? I didn't deserve it."

"Didn't you? It is _my_ money and _my_ scholarship. I can give it to whomever I please."

That answer didn't even require much thought on her part. It was too obvious he was taking the easy, albeit indirect, way out. As true as his words may be, he wasn't getting off the hook that easily.

"There were better candidates."

"Perhaps."

"That's not an answer!" She would have to bait him, but she couldn't do that if she allowed him to irk her. Maybe he was doing it on purpose. He did have a strange fixation with making her angry.

"I didn't force you to apply," he said nonchalantly, piquing her frustration.

"I'm asking you to explain yourself!" she exclaimed, fists clenched at her sides. He looked unmoved, but she wondered.

"Do you not feel entitled to my wealth?"

"No," she began angrily, "I wanted to do it on my own!"

"Does a student with diabetes deserve a scholarship for the simple fact that he has a disease? Does the son of an officer of the law have more rights to aid than you, a girl from an economically disadvantaged household?"

"That's not the same. Merit is still a prerequisite."

"What about the child from a wealthy family that receives a prestigious scholarship based upon his namesake?"

She felt dumbfounded as she watched his mouth move. The edge of her anger was dulling with every roll of his jaw. It was so enticing that she wanted to touch him there as he spoke, just to feel it move. She focused hard on his eyes, willing herself to withstand the intensity there so that she could forget that prominent line perpendicular to his lips. It was hypnotizing and she needed her concentration.

It was disgusting how easily he distracted her.

"I don't want to be like that kid," she said softly, like an afterthought.

"Perhaps I felt that eliminating an evil hanyou and taking on the responsibility of a powerful artifact was more than enough reason for granting you a scholarship. Should I alter the requirements for the Aiko Scholarship to better suit those prerequisites?"

"I didn't kill Naraku, you did."

"You are mistaken. Your arrow was enough; I simply expedited the process. I had no desire to hear another devious word leave his devious tongue."

"That's stupid. You finished him off."

"He had just impaled my midsection with a disgusting tentacle. I felt he deserved purification in combination with Hell for that."

She stifled a giggle as he stared at her, unfazed. Pretentious, yes, but damn funny, too! Was that what he was really thinking in that particular moment? She wondered what he'd do if she spilt tea on his rug.

"This is going nowhere," she said as she focused on revitalizing her anger, already knowing it was futile. "If that's the case, you should've just showed up on my doorstep with a bag of money!"

"Would you have accepted it?" She stood silently, unable to find words, knowing, as the past had proven, that he was right. Then, he began to approach her in that methodical way of his that reminded her of what he was—a beautiful predator that remained aloof and untouchable. She couldn't—she wouldn't—let him get the better of her. Not like that.

"Did you really name my family?" she blurted out, wishing she had worded it better.

"No," he said, staring her so directly in the eye that her knee quivered, knocking against the other. "I slew those that sought to destroy it. Your ancestors took on a new name thereafter. I did, however, influence that name. It was derived from my marking and my vow. My vow to slaughter _any_ that would dare touch that shrine with malice or _any_ that would dare claim it as their own."

He spoke so sternly that her heart skipped a beat.

"Why?" she asked as the distance between them slowly but steadily disappeared, like sand falling through the neck of an hourglass. Time was always ticking away between them.

"Long ago, a premonition was told to me. After knowing you, I discerned that that premonition concerned _you_. I was to clear the path for you. How was I to do this, Kagome?"

She loved the way he said her name and the way his jaw twitched before saying it and the way the muscle tightened after speaking it. She needed to look away, but she was caught, like a moth obsessing over the glow of a porch light.

"I—I don't know," she said brokenly as he stopped before her, still staring her down. She felt so very helpless, but for once, she didn't mind. And that alone was frightening.

"The past. For so long I had wanted to break the cycle of my past. After knowing you, I knew I could do it. By carefully choosing the path of the present, I could redefine that past while simultaneously redirecting the future."

She lost her breath as the blue walls blurred white, her only focus the man in front of her. Every step he took, every thought he acknowledged and every act he partook was done with _her_ in mind. It would seem she wasn't the only one fixated on her future. But he had a goal, a tangible goal that led him through the ages. In that moment, she envied him.

Suddenly, his hand grasped her wrist and he lifted it up, pulling her weight in his direction. He really was powerful, so powerful that he could control the spin of the potter's wheel, making any shape he desired. It was so easy for him, like a hobby to decorate empty shelves. She could never break free of it, but she could rest easy, for there was no need, not when _he_ was in control.

But, she wanted him to teach her how to do it.

"I—I don't understand," she said, her voice a breathy interjection.

"I have a confession, Kagome," he said plainly as he forced her palm open, her fingers splaying across his hand. "I have meddled."

"I know," she whispered, quietly grateful for his disruptive actions.

She wouldn't be here today had it not been for him. Her family's shrine would have long been nothing, a magical well long since vanished and youkai still fantastic myths had he not meddled in the direst of ways. Her name wouldn't even be Higurashi; she may have never existed. She owed him a lifetime of memories and there was no way to repay such a thing. Then again, it was a paradox because he wouldn't have done anything had he not spent those too few weeks alone with her. Like the nature of Fate, she didn't know what to think of it.

"You know little," he said, almost angrily, as he pulled her wrist farther up, forcing her body to rely on his so she wouldn't fall. Her fear resurfaced as she rested against him, stiffly, knowing she'd never truly understand this man. His emotions were bottled up and for good cause, for he was a wildly passionate creature, his fervor too overwhelming to bestow upon just anyone.

"Then tell me," she said, her mouth pressed against his cotton shirt, muffling her voice.

"Clearing the path has been trying," he said sternly as his fingers wound under her hair, grasping the locks at the nape of her neck. She remembered what this felt like and she wasn't sure that she could withstand it again. Her scalp lit aflame as he pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him. As always, he was unyielding.

She realized then, at that moment, that she wouldn't have him any other way.

"I don't understand," she said pathetically, though she tried to appear unaffected.

"Do you think the Almohad Foundation was the first group to rebuild your family's shrine?" She stared wide-eyed as he continued, his lips moving on as though he didn't even realize how close they were, like their proximity did nothing to him. She envied him even more. "As much as you idolize your mother, she is only human. Her perseverance would have been tried had help not come in some form. Do you think the childcare program named in my father's honor was simply for forgiveness? Think again."

Her heart stopped and her neck went hot. She felt violated. It was like he was in her head and her thoughts were no longer her own. Mounting curiosity overrode the perceived insult as she wondered just how far his micromanaging ran.

He pulled harder on her hair, making her stand straighter, her body sliding against his as she rose. She blushed, attributing it to the heat radiating from him. He was close, too close, and she felt as though she would burn to death.

"I suppose you were too young to remember. Just as you were too young to realize that your father's favorite sweets shop was near to closing down. Do you understand the depth of my meddling? I dislike interference. Yet, you _made_ me interfere."

Remembrance was sweeter than any pastry, she thought as she held his eyes. His eyes may have been captivating, but her body consciousness was moving to the forefront of her mind. Her chest was heaving; he had to feel it. Or maybe his anger was too strong, overpowering his ability to sense her reactions.

"Did _I_ make you give Ayumi an internship too?" she said haggardly as she fought the hazed feeling of drunkenness coming over her.

"Who is Ayumi?" He pulled on her hair again. Her scalp screamed and she pressed further into him, trying to alleviate the tension. He was so solid, so immovable. By the gods, she would give anything to move him right now, to know what it would feel like to see him stumble.

"Your hospital. She got a position." Talking was becoming so troublesome that she contemplated stopping altogether. She was terrified of slurring.

"You misconstrue. The truth is far more severe."

"Tell me."

She couldn't look away from him in this position and so she slid her fingers up his arm and to his wrist, wrapping her hand around it. She wanted him to let up on his hold. At this rate, she wouldn't last long, and to her chagrin, he ignored her silent plea.

"I offered Nakashima a better job so that he'd leave Tokyo, taking that _boy_ with him," he said harshly, pulling even harder on her hair, making her yelp. "It wasn't so terrible. Nakashima is a renowned heart surgeon." His jaw pulled so taut after that comment she nearly missed its importance, but then she remembered.

Her body went rigid as a red cap skated across her vision. Before she'd ever learn the name Sesshoumaru, he'd take away her first crush. Pathetically, she wasn't disturbed.

He leaned forward, thankfully giving her scalp some slack. She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling his breath on her ear. The goosebumps resurfaced with a vengeance and she was_ so_ sorry for coming to Kyoto. This was to be her undoing.

"Am I hurting you, Kagome?" She thought she would have forgotten her name had he not said it. She needed to keep her wits about her so that she wouldn't black out. She was too afraid of coming undone, too embarrassed to confess her shortcomings.

"Why? Did you—why did you do that?"

"It was strategy. I made the first move. It would seem that I am destined to play first."

She traced the collar of his shirt with her eyes as she wondered how she had ever thought Inuyasha's brother incapable of love.

"_Riku never liked to go first."_

Though she never met him, she figured Riku would be delighted to know that Sesshoumaru carried the weight of his memory. A similar gift had been bestowed upon her, but she found it frightening.

It weighed too much.

"That isn't what I asked," she said softly, purposefully reciting his past words as she tried to forget what was right in front of her.

"My brother was to be your first love. Not some silly human wielding a wooden bat."

"Why Satuski's?" she asked, unwilling to delve too deep.

She hated herself right now. She hated the sound of her voice, the feel of his heat, the depth of her weakness—she hated _everything_. Except the noise. Except his voice. She feared his silence most of all.

"I was rather fond of their an-dangos from the first one I consumed."

She felt his nose touch her ear as he spoke, only to slide up her temple to the crown of her head. She knew he was telling a half-truth, but she was too focused on her breathing to care, trying to level it, humiliated by actions she couldn't control. Her breath was choppy, like a pant, and she closed her eyes, not wishing to keep all her senses in working order.

"I wanted to tell you about Vienna," he said softly, his face finding the dip of her neck. "And Prague. I wanted you to see the mountains of Peru. But you weren't even born yet."

A light turned red in her mind. She begged it to turn, but it wouldn't. _Not yet_.

She lost her breath, the silence growing, consuming her as she let his breath bathe her shoulder. Suddenly, he pulled her hair again, disrupting the quiet peace. She cried out, sharp and loud.

"Does it _hurt_, Kagome?" he asked roughly. He pulled again, forcing her head farther back as he loomed over her. She was so vulnerable right now, so very vulnerable.

"Does it?" he asked again, louder this time.

He was scaring her and finally, she found the courage to push against him. He was being too atypical. It had been so long that perhaps he _had_ changed. In fact, it was naïve of her to think he hadn't. She had been so convinced that time was unable to reach him.

Then he turned the world right again, but she knew, all too well, how easily he could tilt the axis.

"You should know by now that fighting me is useless. Your only weapon is your tongue. If you want me to stop, then convince me. Convince me that you don't want my touch."

Or maybe he was untouchable, like she had first thought.

She stilled and his hold loosened. His hand slid from the nape of her neck to the small of her back as his other hand reached up, pushing her bangs from her forehead. The light still shone red and she knew—deep down—that she was missing something.

"I didn't know how to clear the path for you other than making the future better for you. But nothing is as easy as it seems."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, acquiescing herself to him, knowing only he could trigger that light to change, finally setting her free from the bounds of ignorance.

"Time crawled," he whispered. The second-hand ceased with a final tick, stopping her heart with it.

He pressed his lips to her temple, but he didn't kiss her, he just held his place there. His fingers dug further into her back as his other hand gripped her hip, like a makeshift hug. But this one was too intense, too desperate, to be confused with a simple embrace. Only Sesshoumaru could make desperation look so good, she thought, as she struggled to find the meaning behind his words.

Like the bare hours of twilight, graveyards became relics and age was forgotten. She was beside herself right now; time was supposed to be nothing to Sesshoumaru.

"Did I really make that much of an impact?" she asked as she shut her eyes tighter, a tear wedging through the closed space. He was moving and contrary to her previous desire, she didn't want to look. Seeing him move was like feeling her heart break, but loving the pain.

"It would seem that I am white to you," he said as his lips roamed over her brow, crossing back over as he planted the faintest of kisses on the corner of her eye, smearing a tear. "However, I feel that your reasoning behind green was incomplete."

Her essay—he had read her essay. Uneasiness slipped into the chasm, filling it rapidly, like a dam had broken from above, the seal too weak. She called him envious in that part, but it was so blatantly true that he wasn't even denying it. He envied his brother's sword after all; it was no secret. Jealousy consumed him, forcing his blade countless times. She had seen it.

But her eyes were never very good.

"I have always wanted what my brother had."

The light turned. And she opened her eyes. Everything seemed so clear, like the lamppost's light was truly white and shadows were denied it.

She had long known that eternity was an insurmountable gorge between them. She could handle the drop and Sesshoumaru wasn't so weak-minded to be intimidated by the fall. But maybe that wasn't truly the problem. For Sesshoumaru, time had no meaning. It was nothing.

"_Because he can't stand the thought of knowing the beasts only to kill them."_

But rejection and disappointment was _something_.

"_Time crawled."_

Time only possessed meaning when shared with others, like a pretty building under the scrutiny of appreciative eyes.

"You said that after knowing me, you learned how to break the cycle. How?"

"I was your enemy. I even sought your death. Yet, you held no hate. If hate can be overcome, then forgiveness can be discovered. That was the key."

She gripped his arm and closed her eyes, turning her face to him, opening herself up. She wouldn't resist anything he offered, good or bad.

"You were waiting for me to come to you, weren't you?"

"Only then would you be ready."

Green—the light turned green.

"Have you been lonely, Sesshoumaru?" His face was at the juncture of her neck and shoulder; she felt him inhale as her belly flipped.

"Ever since Rin left."

Another tear passed as understanding washed over her, like an unrelenting rainfall soaking through her clothes, exposing her to the summer heat, brutal yet welcome.

Inuyasha's parents loved him before he was even born and two women would offer their hearts to him without reservation. Friends would adore him and put their lives on the line for him. A cherished sword would accept him and continuously grant him more and more power, as he so wished. His heart's greatest desires had always been offered to him, despite his half-blood that first made such things seem impossible.

But life was not so for Sesshoumaru.

Sesshoumaru wanted to be first, like the order of his birth. His father never noticed him, decidedly choosing a new fling over his first born any day. His uncle was bitter and self-serving, willing to give anything to have his sister back, including Sesshoumaru, whom he blamed for her loss. Hitomi toyed with his feelings and strung him along, never once partial to the idea of loving him. A gap was formed, a gaping hole, the filler hard to come by and not sought, for one so unloved would never know how to keep it, let alone identify it. A distant monk, a traveling youkai, a motherless cousin and an estranged brother could never fill that gap, but a little girl came close, hero-worship falling short as it was merely a substitute. Rin probably grew up and married, loving him still, but leaving him behind.

That was why he sent that woman away from his harem. Someone loved him that didn't know him, yet the people that did know him couldn't. He wouldn't face them because, to him, their love was illusory—_fake_—and he hated deception. And Sesshoumaru desired love—the kind of love that superceded all, making him the most central aspect of someone's life—_the_ first priority.

He didn't know what that felt like. And she kind of understood.

He waited, for when she came, she would be able to offer him this.

He knew her better than she thought he did.

She folded her hands around his neck, guiding his face to hers. He stared at her like he always did, intensely, and she kissed him then, fully, without abandon, her heart bleeding with sorrow and adoration. White was so befitting of him, for when she kissed him, it was all she could see. She felt him quiver slightly beneath her, her mind rejoicing with her first victory. Like redirecting the future, moving Sesshoumaru was a trying task.

He kissed her hard, pressing into her, like her body, crushed against his, was too far away. His hands slid down her sides and over her hips and before she knew what was happening, her back was against the wall. His knee pushed her thighs apart and she broke from his mouth, turning her head to the side so that she could breathe.

"Is this really happening?" she asked as he drug his nose and lips up her throat, like his hands alone were too inadequate to feel her.

"There is still one more thing I can give you, Kagome," he said softly as he kissed her jaw.

He slipped his body in between her thighs, silently answering her burning question as he lifted her off the ground, pasting her to the wall. There were many privileges in this era, she thought as she gripped his sides with her knees, holding her place, yet still at his mercy. He could touch her without worry, for no one would care as tolerance grew and tradition died. The past couldn't reach them here, in this moment, or the moments after.

When guilt packed its bags, freedom could move in.

He unbuttoned his shirt, watching her as he did, like he could see something in her that she couldn't. But, unlike her, he always did have good eyes. A tank top was underneath and he pulled it over his head, watching her as she watched him, like a pact had just been agreed upon.

They stayed like that for a while, staring at each other, and finally he moved, his fingers dragging up her thighs lazily, like he had all the time in the world. He stayed true to his path, pushing her skirt up to her hips. For a moment, she began to panic, but his fingertips rolled over the band of her skirt and under her shirt, following the curve of her waist. It was a simple, light touch, but it felt _so _good. His hands skated over the tops of her breasts and she swallowed, realizing then that her mouth had gone dry. Suddenly scared and wanting reassurance, she decided that she needed to hear his voice.

"Tell me about Peru."

"The mountains were tall," he said as he moved closer to her, spreading her thighs further apart, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist and pushing her further into the cold, hard wall. Before the discomfort could fully register, he trapped her knees under his arms, pressing them into his ribcage. Her calves slid up his back as he did that, her body heating with a desperate want that dreams could never replicate.

"The people were primitive," he continued, his voice pulling her back to the outer reaches of reality. "They chewed on coca leaves all day."

"Why did they do that?" she asked, closing her eyes as he slowly traced his lips over her shoulder. He wasn't even kissing her, just faintly touching her, teasing her, and it was maddening.

"If they didn't, the altitude would make them ill." His hand moved up her torso then, leaving her in a mess as she wondered where he'd touch her next. "Even I tried them."

"You…did?" She felt removed from herself as his fingertips grazed over her belly and up her sides.

"For the first time in all my years, I was intoxicated." Next, his hands roamed over her chest lightly, like he hadn't even touched her. She opened her eyes, half-mast, his collarbone, large and defined, filled her vision. She recalled how he looked wet. She had to close her eyes again.

"That's bad for you." His hands were everywhere and nowhere. He was exploring her body so gently yet so thoroughly that she wanted to scream in frustration. His slow, deliberate caresses were leaving her feeling dissatisfied and horribly wanton. She wanted him to press harder so she could feel him—_really feel him_.

"It made my heart beat too fast. I never did it again. The noise was ridiculous."

She suddenly became aware of her own pounding heart and fought the urge to beg. She needed more pressure. Luckily, for her, he kissed her neck, slowly at first, then harder. Her heart fell and he became increasingly more demanding, like she had wanted, but it was so intense and the feeling was building so fast that she felt like she was losing herself. He bit her shoulder and she gasped; a small bit of nervousness coiled in the pit of her stomach. Again, confusion begot her as anticipation and excitement intermingled with anxiety. She didn't know what to feel.

"Was it beautiful?" she asked, licking her lips, wishing she weren't so thirsty. His head lifted and she opened her eyes. His jaw rolled and her hips twitched. She wanted to kiss him, sliding her hands over that muscle so that she could feel it as it moved with his tongue.

"Yes. There was one spot where you could look down from a cliff and see an oceanic lake and a desert simultaneously." He kissed her lips this time and she traced his jaw, feeling every movement. He was demanding, like he had been before, but this time was a bit different. He felt impatient. That thought alone made her forget her anxiety.

He pressed into her, their bodies flushed, and she felt it, now fully understanding what she was getting herself into. She licked her lips and looked away, timidly. As always, with him at least, she couldn't get away with anything.

He leaned in closer and whispered, "Why won't you look at me, Kagome?"

She took a shuddering breath, his voice seducing her into a state of compliance. The coil tightened and she realized then that he was fully aware of her body's every reaction. For some reason, that knowledge excited her even more. There was definitely a very distinct difference between dreams and reality.

She looked at him, slowly, and he attacked her mouth, fiercely. She had never felt so _wanted_ in all her life. Not for the first time, she'd do anything he wanted. His hands were everywhere, making her insanely hot and causing her body to weep, begging for the tension to subside, to loosen that unbearably tight coil. She wondered how long it had been since he had last been touched and knowing she had _never_ been touched, she wanted him all the more, knowing full well that the unrelenting Sesshoumaru would exhaust all avenues, leaving her body in a state of no complaint.

With that thought, she knew, at that very moment, that her body _needed_ him.

Her hands sought him and she traced his lines, hard with muscle and softened by flesh. The feel of his body, warm and secure and _so_ very impatient, incited a confidence within her that maintained her shy exploration. Her touch apparently invigorated him and he met her with more passion than she had known, fabric tearing in the background as the seemingly cold man before her found his flame. She loved him as the paradox he was, and as her fingertips glided up his back, he lifted her up again, his lips still demanding everything from her as her skirt fell to the floor.

And that was okay.

She fell atop a soft mattress and his body was on top of hers as soon as she opened her eyes. She knew what was coming next and worry resurfaced, but fell short, as her awakened desire dominated all thoughts and feelings.

"Is this what you were waiting for?" she asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood so that she could breathe a little easier.

"Perhaps," his said cryptically, though she knew the truth. And it made her hotter.

"I knew you were a whore-monger," she said faintly, unable to muster more volume as the fog forged on, restricting her foresight.

He smirked and stared at her, his arms flanking her as he hovered above, contemplating his next move. He was a strategist and he always moved first. Right now, she _really_ liked that.

"You are still untouched," he stated, his eyes roaming her body as if to verify his assumption.

She blushed. "What's it to you? How do you know _that_ anyway?"

"You are timid." She blushed harder, looking away, further proving his assertion.

"Should I be sorry?" she asked mockingly, unconvincingly, as he leaned down.

"No," he replied plainly, his voice calling to her, rousing her senses through the dense fog.

He pushed his hips in between her thighs again, her knees hugging him, and he crawled up her, coaxing her legs higher as he claimed her lips with a possessive brutality. It was as if he owned her body and she was all too happy to sell.

"Is this going to hurt?" she asked as his lips moved down the length of her neck.

"Yes."

"It'll get better, right?"

"If you relax, yes."

"What am I supposed to do?"

He laughed; it was short and sharp. She had never heard him laugh before. She wanted to hear it again.

"This time, I'll do everything," he whispered against her skin. Her belly flipped and she licked her lips.

"So…by_ this time_…you mean we'll do it again, right?"

He pushed himself up and looked at her. Instinctively, she licked her lips again. His hand traveled up her chest and over her throat, his thumb slowly tracing her bottom lip, taking her breath away once more. She wondered how often he could do that. He smiled fully and suddenly, she felt relaxed, like she was lying under a star-speckled sky, a fire warming her skin as a night breeze washed over her, carrying with it an even, one-of-a-kind voice. She could feel like this forever and never tire of it.

"I should have known you'd be a talker."

His fingers traveled over her skin, finding every forgotten corner, every neglected crevice, reminding the runner-up that she was by no means a loser. She could feel every move he made, his hips brushing against her thighs, his knee pushing into her. She could even feel his heartbeat as his chest pressed against her so that he could kiss the curve of her neck and the side of her face. Her belly was warming and her skin tingled. She felt _so_ good, but the warmth was intensifying and it made her feel wanton and uneasy. Her breathing picked up and she didn't know how to steady it. She didn't like feeling desperate. She didn't like feeling unsure. She didn't know what to do—except _talk_.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You like to talk." He pressed further into her, kissing her belly, causing her to wiggle. She could feel him so closely—every _detail_ of him—that it was starting to frighten her.

"Been thinking about this, huh?" He released a shuddering breath and suddenly, she was beginning to like desperation. He moved closer and she embraced the unknown, her fear fluttering away like petals in the wind. She wanted him closer, deeper, as a part of her. He bit her throat and she moaned, stretching her neck to the side.

"I knew I could take you," he said gruffly, desperation obviously claiming him as well. It made her feel better _and_ more impatient.

"Oh?"

He moved lower and she froze, gripping his shoulders. Feeling, firsthand, the breadth of those shoulders she had so admired made her forget her fear. He really did have a supernatural power over her. He played with the band of her panties, pulling, then stilling, his lips hovering at her hips. He brushed his mouth across the curve of her hip; he was driving her crazy. She turned her head to the other side.

"My father must be laughing at me right now," he said, his voice soft yet rough, his breath teasing her skin. She loved every inflection his voice hit almost as much as she loved every corner of her body he found.

"Laugh with him."

He paused, rigidly, and she opened her eyes, realizing sweat was beading at her forehead. Her stomach flipped over and over again as he stared, her hips shifting as her body waited, impatiently, for him to return. She hated his silence, but now, she hatred his stillness even more.

"What's wrong?" she asked, fear threading up her spine. He was always so sure of himself that she had trouble believing that he was changing his mind about this. But the longer he remained silent, the more she questioned herself.

He said nothing as he met her eyes, his intensity unwavering, but he had always been an unyielding man. Streams of moonlight filtered through the parted blinds, highlighting the glossed pottery lining the wall-bound shelves. They were colorful, but all she could see was white.

"When you explained red, you called me passionate," he said oddly, like he was on the outside looking in. "No one has ever called me that."

"Was I wrong?" She wove her fingers through his hair, watching him as he watched her. He masked it well with indifference, and many times his passion was confused with anger and so all doubted his fervor, not knowing him well enough to see it. But it _was_ angry—a soul shattering anger forged from long denied desires. And that made it—made _him_—intense.

And she loved it.

He bowed his head, his hair splaying across her chest. She felt him swallow.

"You're open to me," he said as he ran a hand up the side of her body. She wasn't the first woman to offer herself to him, but he said it like she was the only one who had.

"Is that wrong, too?"

"I," he began, his body sliding, lethargically, up hers once more. She felt hot and tingly and knew she'd never bore of that feeling of closeness, like they were one in the same but not—a mirror image. She knew what he felt before he'd say it. She'd been there before. She just wondered how he'd say it.

And she could've never prepared for it.

"I'm finally going to have something my brother should've had." His voice was but a whisper, like a voice filtering through a dream, hoping to rouse the dreamer.

Once, when she was a little girl, she drank her tea too soon and burnt her tongue. She remembered crying, but most of all, she remembered to let her tea cool before drinking it. Memories acted as teachers, urging its carriers to shield their broken hearts and to fight for their trampled pride. The personality was nothing more than the interpretations of the teacher's lessons.

But interpretations were flexible. People would enter and leave their mark, some stronger than others, but when it was all said and done, the real teacher was the emotion they'd leave behind. The feeling of pain seared her mind so that from then on she'd be careful with things that were hot.

Just like her fluttering heart told her when she was in love.

She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes, silver moonlight capturing a glossy object, an ordinary object that ccaught her eyes as well as her heart. There, resting on the windowsill, perfect, like it had been purchased that very day, was a prism.

The immovable youkai had long since been moved.

She felt a tear, and then another, slide down her face and she felt awed and inspired. Sesshoumaru traced his lips over her tears, dispersing them with her thoughts.

He really didn't present himself honestly.

"You kept it all this time?" she whispered as he stilled, his lips hovering above hers.

"Yes."

Like the spectrum of white light, Sesshoumaru dissected her while keeping her whole, making her beautiful, like a bright rainbow, unbroken by clouds.

"Why—why me?"

She knew what he'd say before he'd say it, but she never knew how he'd say it. And that made Sesshoumaru the most interesting person she had ever met. She hung onto his every utterance, clinging to each syllable, waiting, wondering how he'd chose to string the words together. Her belly flipped and her heart fluttered and she knew, as memories predestined, exactly what that meant.

"Because _you_ are the color amongst the gray."

He kissed her, slipping closer, and she knew she could stay with him forever, like time was perpetually in limbo, the end of the road never in sight, like a rainbow permanently etched into the sky. Even if that was an illusion, it was okay, because when Sesshoumaru was with her, the world knew no gray.

And she wanted to live in a colorful world.

-

-

–_the end_


End file.
